


An Honest Conversation

by eedmund



Series: An Honest Conversation [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: After S2e10, Canon Divergece - Post S2e10, F/M, Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eedmund/pseuds/eedmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is there a point where redemption is impossible? Or can Skye and Ward finally have that honest conversation and see eye to eye. Post S2.E10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing Has Changed. Everything Has Changed.

The pain was excruciating. Kevlar may take the bullet for you but you're still getting hit with an object going 900 mps. You're not going to shake it off. She'd hit him with two of the four shots and likely bruised the fuck out of him with the other two. He'd experienced worse, sure, but he wished she'd shot him somewhere he could do his own suturing. Agent 33 seemed to be an okay sort. She was a specialist through and through but he didn't trust her--didn't like having her at his back. He liked her digging bullets out of it even less.

“You going to go after the girl?” The flawed whirring of the agent's mechanical voice cut through his meager attempts not to make a noise as she dug a little deeper.

“S'not like that,” Ward replied wincing. Skye must've broken a rib with one of those bullets too. He was going to be feeling this for awhile. In a twisted sort of way, he relished that. If he couldn't have her love, at least he could embrace the gift of pain she gave him. She'd done enough damage he'd feel her in every step and breath for months. “She's...I...” He found himself at a loss for words. He shouldn't have listened to Raina. Skye could _never_ be a monster. Never be monstrous enough to accept him in the least. Good girls and bad guys – that love story ended nicely only in the movies. In real life, it never ended that well.

Ward was getting tired of hearing the squelch of his blood and torn tissue as Agent 33 worked to pull out the first bullet. So, he tried to find the right words to explain Skye. Talking gave him something else to do than hear and feel his pain. “She called me disgusting, you know? I make her sick.” He sucked in air as the agent pushed harder. The clatter of metal on tile meant that he had one less bullet in him. He continued after a sharp breath, “I am that. Backstabbing too. It's part of the job.”

Agent 33 said nothing but hummed a little. Agreement, perhaps? Ward tried to take in just a little air. The more he took in the more he could feel the broken ribs. If it was an option, he wouldn't breathe at all. 

“She told me to 'Rot in Hell'.” He made a sound: a laugh that wasn't a laugh. It was immediately followed by more pain. “I'm already there.” He gasped, “I was born there and I'll never get out.”

The second bullet clattered to the table and Agent 33 must've been preparing a needle and thread to stitch him back together. With no warning, she dumped a full bottle of rubbing alcohol down his back. Ward had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. 

When the heat from the disinfectant became a dull throb instead of a searing burn, he continued. “Every time I close my eyes, all I can ever see is how much she hates me. Four shots in the back from the girl who couldn't figure out how to point a gun the right way.” This time his joyless laugh was real. God, he remembered all his frustration trying to train her to shoot right. All the times she had to say 'Bang' in order to pull the trigger. She'd gotten better. He'd done a damn fine job of training her. Too good of a job, apparently. 

“She said she was just trying to have an honest conversation for once. _For once._ ”

He could feel as the Agent tugged his stitches tight. “We're done here,” she said and Ward breathed a little easier as he sat up to face her. 

They were pathetic. He had been a double agent. He'd worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. until he betrayed them. For Hydra, until he'd lost his reason to fight. He had no allegiances now. No debts of favor. He had nothing. Agent 33 had even less. She didn't even have a name, a face of her own.

They stared at each other across the yellowing tile of the bathroom in a cheap motel. The tile was irreparably stained with his blood now. The towels were even worse off. He could now add the housekeeping staff of the Miramar Hotel in San Juan to the list of the people he's woefully betrayed.

“What now?” Agent 33 asked the question, they were both thinking. 

And Ward found, for once, he had no lies left in him. “I don't know.” 

A silence that was not awkward descended on the former Hydra agents. Ward steady himself and rose from the floor only to find he needed to grip the wall to keep standing. 

There was an unnatural frequency to the earthquakes shaking the town. The lights flickered and the world shook and Ward grimly added, “I'm guessing we will soon find out.”

***

Skye got one good look at the what Raina had become before the temple began to crumble. Its falling walls separated them quickly and, for that, Skye was grateful. The Girl in the Flower dress had managed to become a lot less girl and a lot more flower, thorns and all, and Skye hadn't really wanted to stick around to see what exactly that entailed.

The earthquake stopped just as the rubble shook down enough that she could scramble over it and she found herself facing Coulson just as an aftershock started to threaten the integrity of the entire tunnel. She wanted to cry with relief but there was no time for it. 

“Are you okay?” Coulson asked scanning her for injury. Skye nodded. “Good. It's time to run.” And they did. Hard and fast until they got to a rope and peered up at an anxious May, Bobbi, and Hunter. Skye waved for Coulson to go up first. He had, after all, been pummeled by the Doctor not too long before.

Coulson's ascent was slow and so Skye found herself oddly fixated on how much time had passed. Or, rather, how little. She wasn't sure how long they'd been down here but she felt a lifetime older. She felt the naïve rookie Agent Skye was being buried in rubble beneath the city of San Juan. Yet, glancing down, she saw no differences. Nothing had changed.

The rope thumped to the ground in front of her and Skye grabbed on as the team started to hoist her up. As she neared the top, Hunter reached down and grabbed her hand pulling her over the lip of the hole. He would pay the ultimate price for his chivalry. Skye knew what was happening before anyone else. The soft crackling of ash as it crawled up a body was a sound she'd never forget if she lived ten centuries. She'd heard it as she had been petrified and she heard it again now. She scrambled away from Hunter as he looked down with confusion. It didn't take long for the confusion to morph into a much more visceral response as Hunter looked up at the person who'd ended his life. Skye stared back at him. 

_After you change, no one else will understand. They'll be afraid._

The others were looking at her too. They all had the same fear painted on their faces. With S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, fear was fleeting. Skye watched as Coulson shifted in front of her. His eyes widen perceptibly. Skye found herself feeling like she had severely disappointed him. May's tight lipped blankness meant she was stoically plotting a way to contain the situation. To contain her. And, Bobbi, rightfully, looked like she could walk over and wring her neck. She didn't though; she wasn't stupid. 

Hunter was the only one whose fearful expression remained frozen on his face. His petrified look of horror only changed when another violent aftershock forced his body to crumble and shatter. The traditional words of a funeral services he'd never have scrambled, unbidden, through Skye's mind. _Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust._ The thought was too glib, the casual acceptance of his death too soon, and she looked away from the team with a red shame burning into her cheeks. 

Jemma and Fitz picked that moment to run into the room. Skye scrambled backwards. “Stay away from me!” she hissed as her they came near. On her hands and knees, she continued to scoot away from the only family she'd ever truly known. She felt their loss already. 

“Skye...we can...we will...” It was Coulson. Strong, stable Coulson. He'd save the world a million times over but Skye knew there was nothing he could do to save her now. He must've known it too because his voice shook nearly as much as the earth had only moments before.

“Sir,” May cut in. The earth had started shifting again. San Juan was either being hit with an unrelenting series of earthquakes or something much worse was happening. With the team in such disarray, it was not a good time to stick around and find out. “We need to go. Now.”

Coulson nodded. “We can figure out...everything...on the bus. Let's get there.”

The team left the disintegrating ruins of the old city into the chaos of the disaster torn San Juan all keeping a careful distance from Skye. 

It wasn't until they got back to the plane, until they had a chance to sit down, and discuss the day's events that anyone other than Skye realized Agent Hunter wasn't the only casualty of the day. No one was surprised that Mack was no longer Mack and likely buried beneath San Juan. Skye, however, did not like the suspicious looks the team shot around the table when they heard the news of Agent Triplett's death. His was a loss no one took well. Skye desperately wanted nothing more to curl into Jemma, give her a shoulder to cry on, and mourn the loss of a good friend. 

But that was a risk that no one could afford to take right now.

***

It took Simmons three months to declare Skye was no longer tainted by the residual energies from the broken obelisk. 

If Jemma's readings were accurate, Skye could touch others and be touched without petrifying them. Though Simmons was rarely wrong, no one was truly ready to volunteer as a test candidate for the theory. Lab rats could survive Skye and that was as good a test as anyone, Skye included, was willing to undergo. 

Skye could not bare to shirk the safety measures that had gradually grown around her. She had herself on lockdown. Coulson had thought it best that she move her apartment to the containment room on the bus. Just in case. Her clothing, too, had undergone a transformation: longer boots, longer sleeves, and ubiquitous gloves. Skye drowned herself in layers and layers of clothing. Her discomfort was better than the accidental petrification of some unwary bystander. And, that had happened too. Once in the first month when she'd not yet given up hope of passing a normal existence. She'd gone out to escape from the smothering looks of blame and pity on the bus. She'd just gone to get a chocolate bar at the grocery store. A kid had brushed into her uncovered hand. _A kid._

After that, she was kept in containment and only ever approached with a barrier in place. Coulson insisted this arrangement was not a punishment, that she was not in prison. Still, it was hard to feel like it was anything but that. Three months of bad dreams and silent walls had Skye on edge. Of course, she was glad that her touch would no longer mean instant death but even she did not trust in the declaration. 

Once the obelisk's power had gone, she still had to deal with her other abilities. The ones that did not diminish with time, that only got stronger. The newfound seismic power was the most annoying of these abilities. Of this, she had little control. The earthquakes followed her from place to place, disrupting everything the team was trying to do. She was stronger, too. Faster. She felt, for once, that even without the protection of S.H.I.E.L.D. she could probably make do on her own. After an unasked for earthquake caused three agents to be injured on the last information gathering operation, Skye didn't wait for Coulson to tell her to leave. She took it upon herself to get that job done. It was surprisingly easy to pack up a bag and disappear. Coulson and the team were otherwise occupied cleaning up her mess. Skye didn't even feel particularly bad about going AWOL. She'd lost her family – all of them – in San Juan when everything had changed.


	2. An Ally and a Friend

“You should probably get a bracelet. W.W.S.D. You could market that crap and retire from all this.” Agent 33 ground out while dodging a hit from two Hydra agents. Ward assisted her with putting them out of commission. The sound of the jaw cracking as his fist connected was just as rewarding as it'd had ever been. The sound of his partner's yammering was less so. Agent 33 might look like Melinda May but once she’d been tagging around with him for several weeks, she didn’t have the same zen quietude. Ward still hadn't gotten use to having inane conversations with a copy of the Calvary.

“W.W.S.D.?” Their pursuers lay broken at their feet so there was no impediments when they started running away from the base. The duo ran fast because their job was done but mostly because they'd just rigged the building with enough explosives to really muck up all the seismographs on the continent.

“What Would Skye Do? You can't even think on your own any more. Every move you make you consult with your weird impression of what that girl would want from you. Why're we taking out this Hydra base again? Because they botched a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission? And we care because? S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't going to come running with open arms to us anytime soon.” The concussive force of the blast forced both of them into the dirt. It also, fortunately, shut Agent 33 up for a quick beat.

When Ward got his breath back, he stood and dusted himself off, “You're really going to criticize my motivations? Like you're one to talk, 33. I'm not the one recovering from the overwhelming urge to 'Hail Hydra' at all turns.”

His partner actually had the audacity to smile. It was a thin smile. Melinda May's face didn't really lend itself to full-blown sunshine and glitter. Still, there was genuine warmth in it and its very existence was making Ward uncomfortable. 

“I definitely can think on my own. You know what my own self thinks we should do next?” Agent 33 queried. The mechanical undertone of her voice was starting to smooth out enough that her voice almost sounded natural.

“No idea. Not terribly interested either,” Ward started walking towards the parking lot on the far side of the totaled compound. He hoped they hadn't blasted the windows out of _all_ the cars. He didn't relish driving with all the windows down and no windshield to boot.

“We should find her.”

That stopped Ward in his tracks. He turned to glare at Agent 33. “That is a terrible idea. She's still up at the new S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters – or on the bus – surrounded by people who'd, rightfully, put more than four bullets in my back, and I haven't...”

“Technically, it was two bullets. She only hit you twice.”

Ward scoffed, “That's besides the point. Look, you can't even come up with a name for yourself and you want me to go face the only person on this planet that…” Ward opted not to finish the sentence. 

“How about Mary Sue?”

Ward turned away. “Mary Sue? What are you some hick from Alabama? You don't strike me as the pig tails and Daisy Dukes sort.”

“I just figure I should have two names this time. You know, in case I forget again. You're right. Mary Sue doesn't work. How about... Kara. Kara Lynn?”

Ward didn't bother to respond with words. He felt the steep arch of his eyebrow would give his opinion to that just fine.  
“S.H.I.E.L.D. put out an APB on her,” Agent 33 added. “She went missing from headquarters about two weeks back.”

Ward's eyebrow held its skepticism. “Two weeks?”

Agent 33 nodded. “She's been keeping a real tight lock on it too. There's been no unusual earth movements anywhere in the last two weeks. She's either found some way to control it or she's found some way off this realm.”

Ward found a red roadster far enough from the blast to have three of its four windows still intact. He used the broken one to pop the lock and hopped into the driver's seat. “That. Or, she's staying close to the fault lines. Small quakes happen all the time after all.”

Melinda May's face did crack open into a full-blown sunshine and glitter smile then. It was contagious. Ward smirked back at her. “Hop in, Kara Lynn. We're heading to California.”

***

God, she missed being just a regular old homeless person. That had been a privilege. This on the run fugitive nonsense was an absolute pain in the ass. No. Not a pain in the ass. Being on the run and homeless was lovely. Like hedgehogs in teacups. Just absolutely perfect. Nothing could possibly be better. She held onto the thought of tiny hedgehogs just long enough for the ground to stop quivering. Tiny hedgehogs were increasingly becoming her failsafe.

It had not taken too long for Skye to figure out that the intensity of her powers increased exponentially when she was stressed, frustrated, or angry. She was a bit like Hulk on that matter but instead of that whole “HULK SMASH!” thing, she just shook down towns: guaranteeing thousands would be homeless and the FEMA budget would be splinched for another century or two. Her powers sucked. She was trying to find a way to control the quakes, control and direct the power but, lately, all she could do was stop it with tiny hedgehogs. Or sometimes imagining that micro pig with red rain boots. She'd give anything to have a sit down with Bruce Banner and discuss how he managed to refrain from using his powers of destruction on a daily basis. Bunnies? Baby penguins? Maru?

Catastrophic earthquakes were a much bigger tell than she could possibly afford even with only the newly downsized S.H.I.E.L.D. on her tail. Her accidental tremors were a red flag especially when she was traveling through traditionally earthquake free zones. She figured that S.H.I.E.L.D. had easily tracked her straight from DC all the way to California. That didn't matter though. They hadn't caught her yet and it hadn't taken more than a Google search or two for her to know that the San Andreas fault has thousands of minor earthquakes every year. As long as she stayed along the California coastline and didn't get to Destructo-levels of stress, no one would be the wiser.

She never stopped moving though. Run, run, run. That was her game right now. 

For all her training and all the effort she put into keeping a low profile, Skye was starting to feel like she could never shake S.H.I.E.L.D. Worse, whoever Coulson had sent after her had a major creep factor. For all its downsides, S.H.I.E.L.D. usually was pretty upfront about surveillance. They were professional if a little cold about it. Skye would like to think that if they'd found her and wanted to bring her in, she'd not be killing time in a dingy motel just south of San Francisco. Whoever was tracking her now though was different. Although Skye had yet to catch a glimpse of her tail, she could feel him. She could be standing ten feet away from anyone else and feel as if her personal bubble was being invaded. She constantly felt as if someone was standing right behind her, warm breath pushing at her hair. The spine tingling sense of wrongness was omnipresent but Skye could never pin point the physical presence of someone who was monitoring her. 

At first, she thought maybe it was Zabo. He had no real regard for personal space and their last reunion had largely been because he'd had her kidnapped so he definitely had the creep factor. Still, he'd never shown any desire to hide from her before. Regardless of who or what was following her, she figured now would be as good a time as any to leave. Security in the motel would be flipping shifts in ten minutes and she could easily slip out a side door, not settle her account, and be out of town before her observer could catch up. 

Skye quickly placed her tablet into her backpack and scanned the dim interior of the room. Satisfied that she had all her belongings, she peeked out the door. A tall man with closely cropped hair was walking down the hall toward the motel's management office and away from her exit. His back was turned to her but Skye still waited a breath for him to clear the hall before sliding out of the room. With any luck, he'd keep the motel staff busy enough for a few moments. It was all she'd need to disappear. She held the door until it snapped quietly closed behind her and quickly made her way up the hall. 

She felt the cool night air drifting carelessly through the poorly insulated door as she used a pen knife to deactivate the “Emergency Exit Only: Alarm Will Sound” siren and breathed easier as she edged out into the darkness of the parking lot. The night was still and quiet enough she could hear the soft mumble of a late night show from Room 2B and the rhythmic thump, thump, thumping of a bed that readily announced the couple in 10A was not _just_ desperately beseeching God for more. 

She crept around the tepid pools of light the handful of street lamps afforded the parking lot. In her mind, she kept chanting that the darkness was her friend. It hid her. It kept her safe. She'd easily make it down to the bus stop and be away from...everything. A fresh start. Run, run, run. She told herself to calm down but her every instinct was screaming that something was wrong. Tiny hedgehogs, she thought before turning to give herself one last reassuring look at the quiet motel. She was not prepared to come face to face with the man from the motel and it took her a minute to realize she was, in fact, looking straight into his face, a perfectly normal face except, where two eyes should be, there was nothing but a smooth expanse of unblemished skin. She felt a sharp prick at her neck and the world fell to darkness. 

Her last thought before she lost consciousness was that _this_ darkness was not her friend and it was no longer safe. The earth trembled once but only Skye crumpled to the ground.


	3. Earning It

Sometimes Grant Ward heard voices in his head.

Not the crazy kind. Or, at least, he hoped they weren't the crazy kind. Every good spy had a knack for dealing in multiple personalities and Grant Ward was a damn good spy. He heard the voices of the characters he'd played. So many characters, so many voices. Sometimes their words would haunt him...especially when he'd used them to say something particularly astute.

Once as Grand Ward – Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., he'd demanded that Skye's minor betrayal of the team required pay back of sorts. In an irritatingly clipped tone, he'd told Coulson, “if she wants our trust back, she's got to earn it” and now he wished he'd been less snide about his delivery or less self-righteous about betrayal. Since then, that line had become the worst earworm he'd ever had stuck running through his head.

She's got to earn it.  
...He's got to earn it.  
...Got to earn it.  
...Earn it. Earn it. Earn it...

He wasn't terribly sure that he could _earn_ any measure of forgiveness from Skye. She'd been spitting flames at him since his own betrayal of S.H.I.E.L.D. The twinge that came every time his movements pulled the scars on his back, too, would remind him that his formerly gun shy protégé had gone trigger happy on him.

33 didn’t seem to have a problem with promoting a reunion between the two of them. They’d caught up with Skye just north of Santa Cruz but Ward had been careful about keeping a judicious distance from her all the same. His alliance helped a lot in this regard. Long-term, inconspicuous surveillance was near impossible as a solo act. With 33, Ward could take turns keeping watch. Having time to occasionally sleep kept him more aware and he was better able to maintain a safe distance during his op. While he observed from afar, Ward dwelled on how he could possibly ever _earn_ Skye’s regard. As it stood, Ward knew Skye wasn't going to deal well with seeing him. If she felt someone she considered an unmitigated enemy had gone out of his way to corner her, Skye was sure to send several more bullets whizzing their way towards his back. Ward didn't want to contemplate the blow up she'd have if she accidentally mistook 33 for Melinda May either. She was, after all, on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D. too. And, damn, was she twitchy about it.

Her worry bled off her so much that she failed rather dramatically at keeping a low profile. Even if he hadn't been trained to observe and anticipate suspicious behavior, he would have figured she was up to no good. The sheer number of times she'd throw surreptitious glances over her shoulder or scoured the faces of total strangers made her look crazed. Her cover wasn't helped by fact that she was starting to look absolutely haggard. She wasn't eating right or sleeping well.

Tonight, he'd left 33 (or Kara Lynn or whatever nonsense name she was currently running with) one town over. Tonight, he resolved to find a way to talk to Skye, to let her know she didn't have to run, to let her know he could help. He was just about to get out of the car where he'd been keeping watch when Skye scurried out a side exit followed by someone else. “Shit,” Ward muttered promptly returning to his perch behind the wheel. He knew S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't yet figured out where Skye had stashed herself but someone else had. He had spent so much of his time monitoring Skye's rookie mistakes, he missed seeing his own. He wasn’t alone on this op and he had no idea who was snatching her now. He watched as she crumpled to the ground, watched as a tall figure scooped her up and secured her in the passenger seat of a silver SUV.

There was little traffic so Ward felt no compunction about zooming down the street with no lights on. The SUV was easy to follow and it didn’t go far before it rolled to a stop at a small, private airstrip on the edge of town. Ward figured he’d have a little time to check in with his partner while the man moved around the vehicle to collect Skye.

“33,” Ward barked when she picked up his call.

“This is Kara Lynn, how may I help you?” she replied with syrupy sass.

“Yes. Right. _Kara Lynn_ ,” he bit out her name so hard he was lucky it didn’t break into more pieces. “I don’t have time for this. They’ve got her.”

“Who?” She, thankfully, dropped the putrid sweetness from her tone. Had his anxiety for Skye's situation not distracted him, Ward would have felt sorry for her. Whitehall had wiped her former self completely out of her mind and she spent a lot of time trying on different options now that she was a free agent. Tone, accent, name, dress – everything shifted around 33, always changing. One thing remained constant, she could be all business when times got rough: “The intercepted communications we’ve pulled from S.H.I.E.L.D. shows they don’t know left from right at this point. It can't be them.”

“I don’t know,” Ward reluctantly admitted. “I’m in pursuit. The airfield just north of town. Half Moon Bay? I’m going to stick with her but see if you can catch up. And get me some intel. I don't like doing this blind.” The man in the SUV had manage to sling Skye over his shoulder. Her limp arms dangled down his back. The sight had Grant seeing red. He waited for Kara Lynn's confirmation that she had his location. Her response was terse and Ward knew he'd irritated her with the abruptness of his own demands. He didn't care. 33 – Kara Lynn – was well-trained and a professional to the core. By the time he caught up with Skye, she'd be five steps down the line in digging up any available dirt on their mystery kidnappers.

With a click, he hung up and stashed his phone. After weeks of trailing from afar, he felt a burst of glee as he gave up his practice of following at a safe distance and tore off down the hill. The little airfield had no real security so he hurtled over a low gate and made a dash for the plane. The miserly security budget extended to the lighting at the airfield too. Mainly reserved for marking the runway, light was so sparse as to be virtually nonexistent. Ward's habit of wearing black on black clothing meant he was invisible, a shadow amongst shadows, as he sped across the black tarmac.

The plane, an older model than the bus, a Douglas C-74 Globemaster, was in good repair. It’s four propellers were already merrily chopping up the air as it began to taxi. Ward had to make a mad dash and grab onto the landing gear. The metal stalks of the wheels were unpleasantly cold but Ward didn't loosen his grip. They were also greasy enough to make his climb into the plane more precarious than he would’ve like. Although, if preference were going to be had, Ward would rather not be trying to sneak onto a plane at all. There was nothing worse than being on a plane you weren’t suppose to be on. Few aircraft had crews big enough for a random stranger to blend into the background and just pass as one of the team. With no cover, he was going to have to stay completely out of sight until he could find Skye and get her out of there.

As the plane left the runway, Ward started climbing out of the cargo bay. The unending darkness of the plane's undercarriage felt as oily as his climb into the plane. Ward knew no one was likely to be in the cargo area while the plane shakily gained altitude. The head splitting pressure of his eardrums testified to the unpleasantness of his current hideout. Still, he felt like he was being watched, like someone was standing just over his shoulder. Creeping forward, towards the light, Ward gave way to the rookie impulse of glancing over his shoulder. 

From the darkness, two pale hands emerged. Each hand had a soft grip on a slimy orb whose milky whiteness was marred by splashes of red from of a smattering of broken vessels. They looked like eyes – eyes removed from an eye socket, wider and rounder than one would guess from their natural position inside someone's face. The hands pressed them firmly towards him. The surrealness of this moment caught him unawares and Ward had no practiced response, no training to handle such a thing. He stumbled back and blinked to adjust his vision. He hoped that he had somehow been seeing things wrong but before he could open his eyes, he felt the press of the orbs into his forehead. It was with no little surprise that Ward flicked open four eyes not two. His hand flew to his face, past his own set and pressed into his forehead with a sickening squelch. The second set of eyes now rested on his forehead as if they'd been stitched there with a fine layer of skin. He felt the pain of poking the new set of eyes too. With two sets of eyes, he stared back at the face of an eyeless man. One empty hand was still stretching towards Ward's forehead while the other was jabbing a syringe straight into his neck.

“What the Fuck...?” Ward got out before his visions blurred and he collapsed heavily onto the cold, metal floor of the cargo bay.


	4. White Walls

Skye was on the floor. She could feel the cool, chalky texture of it beneath her palms. It was alien to feel anything but the gloves she normally wore all the time; she spared a quick thought to wonder who had taken them before she continued her analysis of her situation. The floor was smooth – not tile, not linoleum – perhaps rubber? It had an unusual quality to be sure. Aside from the undefinable nature of its material, the floor she was currently on was reassuring. It felt clean and, better still, felt to be part of an empty room. The feeling of being watched, stalked, and catalogued had lessened though Skye was reluctant to trust the calmness of this feeling since the last thing she remembered was being drugged into unconsciousness. She refrained from opening her eyes; she wanted as much knowledge of the where and the how and the why of this situation before she made the announcement of her awareness to the powers that be. 

A casual sniff gave her very little additional information. The room did not smell noxious or sweet or of anything at all. With a degree of relief, she heard no one fidgeting or pacing or talking. Even with her eyes closed, she was aware that the lighting in the room was bright...likely, fluorescent from the institutional hum that seemed to be the only prevalent sound.

Sky opened her eyes and had the immediate confirmation that she was correct on at least one count. The long, glowing fluorescent lights that were hung liberally from the ceiling blanched the rest of her vision. She blinked several times to clear their luminescence. 

When her she regained her vision, she realized that she had not lost much from her light blindness. As her eyes adjusted to the glare of the lights, she saw that she was in a stark white room. There were no windows, no door, no furniture just white walls, white floor, white ceiling, and those bright, white lights. 

When she sat up, she noticed there was one imperfection in this white, sterile room. About two yards to her left, a body dressed from head to toe in black combat gear was laid out. The body was too still, too silent. Skye would've thought it was nothing more than a corpse had she not known for a fact that she could never be so lucky.

“Ward,” she hissed. Her irritation spiked so highly she was rather impressed that she wasn't flattening cities with her quakes. The stillness prevailed: neither Ward nor the world moved. 

Skye got to her feet and walked over to the body. Although the unusual absence of her renegade powers intrigued her, she opted to deal with the more immediate issue: “Hey, asshole, stop faking it. I know you're awake.” The soft buzzing of lights was her only response so she decided to move beyond cajoling him. Two heavy handed slaps to the face and three kicks in the side later, Skye decided Ward was either really good at not responding or still out cold. And, if he was out cold, he wasn't in this room on his own volition. That was a worrying thought. 

Whoever had nabbed her at the hotel wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson would never have locked her up with Ward; he knew better. And, he apparently wasn't some new Hydra buddy Ward was hanging out with either. Skye couldn't think of who else might be up for such an elaborate and expensive kidnapping operation. She recalled seeing a man with no eyes but quickly disregarded it. That couldn't have been real; a hallucinogenic side effect of the knock-out drug? She briefly wished Jemma was around and could yammer off some other theories with impossible words and too complicated explanations. Not understanding had been more comfortable when someone else clearly had a grasp on the situation.

Abandoning the incapacitated Ward, Skye walked closer to the wall and ran a hand down its length. It had the same smooth but slightly chalky feel the floor had. She scraped her nails down the wall and little slivers of the material flaked off, fluttered to the floor where they simply disappeared. The wall, too, appeared undamaged. “Curiouser and curiouser,” Skye muttered as she tried raking her nails against the wall again. This time, she was able to catch some of the flakes but they only pooled in her hand becoming a slimy white liquid. With a grimace, she swiped her hand across the wall and to her amazement, the fluid merged into it as if it had never been a separate puddle at all. Skye glowered at the unconscious Ward and wished, again, that Jemma was here with her. 

Though, now that she thought of it, lying, traitorous bastard that he was, Ward was still pretty good in a tight spot. Always prepared, that one. Skye moved back to him cautiously. She didn't really want to be in his reach when he woke from whatever had put him out. She didn't know how well Ward would take seeing her again since the last time they'd been this close, she'd fire four shots into him. He looked hale and hearty enough – aside from that whole dead to the world thing – maybe she'd missed? Mostly? Still, if Ward had a weapon or a phone or anything on him that could help her figure a way out of this situation, she'd best get it before he woke up and all the variables changed.

Starting at his feet, Skye patted the usual places for concealed daggers. She prodded his boots and was slightly relieved nothing shot out of them. Nothing was strapped to his lower calves either. She moved her hands slowly up his leg, keeping to the outsides, prodding cautiously. It felt wrong to be doing this. God, she'd be pissed if he did this to her while she was out cold. “The ends are gonna have to justify the means, Robot” she said to her unconscious companion as she shushed her inner Jiminy Cricket. There was nothing in his pockets. He still had on a kevlar vest. Skye couldn't remove it with out flipping him over. She doubted she'd be able to manhandle the dead weight of his 6 foot 2 inch frame enough to actually get the vest off. Instead, she tugged at where his black shirt was tucked neatly into his black slacks. When she'd pulled the shirt loose, she snuck one hand up underneath it. She'd been in close contact with Ward before – training with him as her S.O., those few kisses and caresses after Providence – but none of that felt as intimate or as wrong as this stolen caress. His skin was warm to the touch and his abdomen firm. Her hand made its way up his left flank then slid across his chest to his right flank. She could feel the rough edge of a scar, no, _two_ scars where her bullets had gone into him. She winced but kept sliding her hand upward until she felt the rough nylon of his tactical holster. Ward never went anywhere without an arsenal of weapons strapped every which way on him but either this Grant Ward had come into this cell singularly unprepared or someone had beat her to the pat down. No phone, no gun, no knives. The only thing Skye got from her illicit search was a distressing arousal and a whole heap of guilt. Quickly, she removed her hand from under his shirt and took a quick moment to smooth it back in place.

Scooting backwards so she was no longer within easy reach, Skye rested her head on her knees. She was exhausted. Apparently, drugged sleep did not equate to real sleep in the feeling refreshed department. Even with the brightness of the fluorescent lights, Skye started to doze off.

Her nap was cut short by Ward's abrupt rise to consciousness. “Blargh!” he hollered...or, at least, that's the closest interpretation of Ward's nonsensical exclamation Skye could come up with. Once his exclamations started making sense, they ran the course of rather inventive swearing.

She scrunched her nose up as she watched him finally take in the room around him. His hand flew to his forehead and then he looked to her. Skye was not prepared for the question Ward asked. She figured he'd ask what she was doing there or to demand he be released. She expected that tightly controlled rage that always seemed to simmer below his surface or, at least, the unamused exasperation she'd always excelled at provoking from him. She did not expect him to ask “How many eyes do I have?” 

“Uh, two.” Skye answered scooting further away from Ward. Was he insane? Had he truly gone fully around the bend? He was still patting his forehead as if he expected to find something there besides eyebrows and the slight wrinkles exacerbated by his perplexed expression.

“Two. Right. So, not four?”

What do you do when you're trapped with an insane person in a cell with no door, no windows? Skye didn't know but she figured she'd have to play along for a bit. “You haven't had four eyes since we were using backscatter glasses to get Amador out from under Cybertek...unless you picked up a pair in the last few months? Missing your glasses, Ward?” And your sanity, Skye added to herself.

Ward dropped his hand from his head and expelled his breath in a whoosh. He shook his head. “I had the weirdest dream.” A startled laugh punctuated his statement. “I thought for a moment that a man with no eyes had...”

“Wait.” Skye stopped scooting away from Ward. “Did you say a man with no eyes?”

The relief that had loosened Ward's expression just a moment before was gone. “Yes. You saw him too? Not like someone who had his eyes removed though. Just,” Ward ran a hand across his forehead again. “Nothing there.”

Skye nodded.

”Did he...uh, did he give you eyes?”

“No. He drugged me with something. I thought I saw him for just a second before I passed out,” Skye pursed her lip and scrutinized Ward for a moment. He didn't look deranged. Well, any more so than he normally was. “What do you mean by 'give me eyes'? Were you drugged too?”

Ward's look got a little distant for a moment before he shifted onto his feet and stood. Skye stood too so she didn't have to crane her neck up to keep him in her sights. Besides, he would have had a tactical advantage on his feet if she kept to the floor; she wasn't ready to give him one. “I was, yes. I didn't see much. It was dark. He just...placed eyes on my forehead and when I blinked, it was like I had two sets of eyes instead of one.”

“Sounds like your knock-out drug gave you a nice trip too. It's obviously a hallucination,” Skye replied. It had to be.

Ward didn't look reassured. “Yes, maybe.”

“Maybe? Come on, Ward. You can't just magically get another set of eyes and then magically lose them.”

“You're right. I know. It's just I saw him inject me with the drug.”

“Well, good for you. You have excellent peripheral vision. We'll add it to your file.”

Ward scowled at her. “I saw him inject me with two sets of eyes.”

Skye huffed, “Agree to disagree. This is getting us nowhere. Where are we even? Do you know?”

Ward shook his head and looked around the room. Skye could see him cataloguing it, calculating strategies for escape. Not turning his back to her, he stooped low and ran his hands across the floor. Scrapped at it, like she had.

Skye decided she'd catch him up on that at least. The enemy of your enemy is your friend, right? Ward was her only asset in this cell. “The floor, the walls. They're all made of that stuff. It's weird. If you break off a chunk, it's like a liquid. I don't think you can break through it. It seems to just reform itself.”

Ward stood, turned to the closest wall and punched it. Hard. Skye could see the impact of his punch run back up through his arm. He exhaled sharply. The wall rippled like a still pool of water that had a penny dropped into it and then settled back into its former smoothness. Shaking his hand out, Ward said, “It looks like someone's done their research. They've found a way to contain even your special skills.”

“What is it?” Skye asked intrigued despite herself.

“Non-Newtonian fluid. Like oobleck or jello. Depending on how much stress is put on it, it can be both a solid and a liquid.” In response to Skye's gapped mouth stare, Ward expanded his explanation. “Sci-Tech was experimenting with making this body armor a few years back. I had to run a field test with it. It was way too heavy to be practical in the field but, this,” he patted the wall, “sure puts it to good use.”

“So, you think this is S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Skye couldn't help but feel a little betrayed that S.H.I.E.L.D. would take her back like this. Her relief was immediate when Ward briskly shook his head.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't stopped chasing its tail since you went AWOL. It can't be them.”

Skye quirked an eyebrow up at this. “So, you've been monitoring S.H.I.E.L.D. communications enough to know they weren't after me which brings me to my next question: what do you know about my 'special skills'?” She didn't stop with one question though. Once the first one was out, the rest came pouring out too. “Were you following me? Who are you working for, now, Ward? My father? Hydra? I swear to God, Ward, if this is your third attempt to kidnap me, I'll...”

Ward held up his hand to stop her questions. “Slow down. Look. We're in this together.” Skye's narrowed eyes gazed accusingly back at him.

“In answer to your questions, I know that you triggered some ability in San Juan. You make earthquakes. Or earthquakes find you where ever you are with a surprisingly frequency these days.”

Skye was still frowning up at him. “How do you know that?”

“After you shot me,” Ward started and was amused to see a glimmer of guilt cloud her expression, “I got out of the Hydra compound with the assistance of Agent 33. She helped me get back on my feet and I, in turn, have been helping her adjust to living as a free agent. We keep pretty close tabs on S.H.I.E.L.D. as neither of us particularly want an altercation with them right now. And S.H.I.E.L.D. communications have been very focused on you these last few months.”

“A free agent?” Skye sneered.

“A mercenary, if you'd rather,” Ward replied blandly. 

“So, you're killing for money now and shacked up with May's evil twin. Nice, Ward. Who's paying you top dollar to take me out?”

He smiled at her. It wasn't comforting. “No one, Skye. Tracking you, that's my own personal project.”

“So, this is a revenge thing,” she said pacing along her wall opposite him. Had he still been her S.O., Ward would have told her to stop pacing. She only brought herself closer and closer to him with each agitated stride. He wasn't her S.O. anymore though and he liked that she was increasing her proximity to him. “You could finish me off right now. You have the advantage. You're bigger than me. Stronger. Neither of us have weapons. You might as well just get your job done.” She spun to face him.

“I said I was _tracking_ you.” Ward watched as the floor around Skye rippled and settled and rippled again. She needed to calm down. Using her powers like that had to be draining, even if the room contained their effect.

“Sure. But, I'm just what you like to tangle with. What was it you said? Back when you were pretending to be a good man, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. You preferred to take on 'super-powered psychopaths'. It gave you someone to hurt, to punish. I'm a monster now, Ward. Free game. Or, was that just another lie. Maybe you like the monsters? More people just like you.” Skye punctuated each word of the last sentence by thrusting her finger toward him. Her gesture put her within his reach and the speed of his response caught her unawares. She went from standing face to face with him to being spun around. The cold white wall was all she could see. He'd wrapped her tightly in his arms, her own arm was caught between his chest and her back. She struggled weakly for a moment before giving up. 

She couldn't fight him. She was too tired, too wrung out. “What now, Ward? You going to choke me out like you did Eric?” 

“No,” Ward said. He kept his voice soft, steady. It was the same reassuringly neutral tone he'd use to use when directing her through a tricky operation. The kind of tone that said, “I've got your back; you're safe.” And, in this particular instance, the tone was quite literal. His impressive bear hug had her back pressed firmly up against him. She could feel all of him. Every inch of her body was pressed into his own solid form.

“Look at the ground, Skye,” he directed. When she did, she saw the floor rippling and settling beneath them. “You've got to settle yourself. You'll wear yourself out and I need you to be functional if we're going to find a way out of here.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Their best chance at escape was working together. Even then, she wasn't liking the odds. “Okay. I see it. Tiny hedgehogs in teacups.”

“Tiny hedgehogs in teacups?” 

“They're very zen. It's what's been able to shut me down since I left S.H.I.E.L.D.”

A rumble of laughter, his laughter, shook through her followed by a riot of goosebumps running up her arms. She wondered if tiny hedgehogs were about to be replaced with this moment. A warm embrace, an almost carefree laugh. She hadn't been held since before San Juan and she forgot the bliss of a warm hug. Laughter had also been missing from her life these past few months. She hadn't realized how much she missed it.

The floor stopped rippling and Ward loosened his hold. Skye, then, remembered it wasn't a hug but a body restraint. She remembered why she didn't like him and scurried as far away from him as the small cell would allow. She clenched her fist and turned back to where he still stood in the center of the room. 

“A truce then?” he offered.

She nodded reluctantly before asking, “What now?”

Ward shifted and scanned the room again. His expression tightened and he shook his head. “Now, we wait.” He scanned her from head to toe as if she were just another component in the room. He adjusted his statement: “I wait. I'll keep watch. You need to sleep.”

Skye was about to object on principle but didn't. If all they could do yet was stare at walls, she might as well get a little rest. She nodded once and slid down the wall she was near, keeping her back to it while facing Ward. In normal circumstances, sitting on a hard floor in a brightly lit room with someone she considered her number one enemy would not have been circumstances in which she could readily fall asleep. She was just so tired though. It didn't take more than a few minutes for sleep to claim her.


	5. The Other Side

“Sir, I mean no disrespect but are you sure it was wise to keep the stowaway with the girl?” 

“Is there a reason you're questioning my decision, Aeric?”

“The containment room, sir, it has taken a lot of damage. She seems to be rather stressed.”

“Yes, well, although our choices were limited, I'm sure our method of securing her has not helped the matter. Do not worry too much about the man. I _saw_ him; he holds no ill will towards the girl; he only means to protect her.”

“From us, you mean? So he will fight us?”

“That was...unclear. He was confused on the issue. She is lost, though. She needs someone to ground her. In any case, it would be unwise to open the containment room until we are once again on the ground.”

“Of course, sir. Once we land?”

“I will see to them,” said the man. 

Aeric nodded and then remembered the man could not, now, see him. “Yes, sir, very good. I will alert you when we land.”


	6. Killing Time

Ward wasn't aware of how much he fidgeted with things until he was stuck in a room with absolutely nothing to do. It would have been bad enough had this been a normal sort of surveillance operation. He had no coins to knuckle-roll, no knives to flip – nothing to keep his hands busy. Still, if he had something to actually _watch_ he could have been extra invested in getting the job done. As it was, he had four smooth white walls, a white floor, and, most excitingly, a white ceiling with 6 long single-bar lights spaced evenly across it. To make it worse, the lights hummed merrily and never flickered; the monotony was agonizing. In an effort to keep occupied, Ward did crunches. When the abdominal burn got to be too strenuous, he switched to push ups, then moved on to a series of steps and kicks. He probably would've kept crunching and pushing and kicking and stepping had Skye not stopped him by emitting a weak sob. 

Ward immediately turned to the woman he'd been desperately trying not to focus on during the infinite dead time of standing watch in a room with no windows or doors. She'd meant to fall asleep with her back up, defensively, against the wall but the looseness that accompanied sleep had caused her to slump forward and her head and neck were tilted off to side in what, Ward could only assume, was a most painful angle.

The sob, though, had nothing to do with angles. Skye was having a bad dream and, not for the first time, Ward wished he could get inside her head and fight her demons for her. Instead, he gave up his game of calisthenic distraction. He walked over to Skye and contemplated how best to wake her before remembering her levels of exhaustion. She needed this sleep even if it was unpleasant. Instead of nudging her awake, he sat down next to her. He held his breath for one long minute but when she didn't wake at his intrusion, he slid his arm behind her head and pulled her to him. Settling her shoulders into his chest, he made sure her new position was more comfortable than the last.

Ward was glad to see how well Skye responded to his proximity. At least, while unconscious, she seemed to prefer him. Her brow smoothed and her nightmare, whatever it had been, drifted away. His left hand had caught in her hair when he'd slung it behind her head and, without realizing it, Ward found something with which to fidget. His fingers curled into her hair slowly and the pulled out of it, his thumb ran small circles against her neck; she sighed contentedly and leaned in to him. Ward, irrationally, felt the beginnings of hope.

Although time had ceased to move forward when he'd nothing to do but stare at walls, it sped up dramatically once he was he was so nicely ensconced with Skye. Though it could have been hours, it felt like mere minutes before Skye turned fully and ran her hand up his chest. Had he not had on his bullet-proof vest, the movement might have gone unnoticed by Skye. The perfection of the moment might have extended on indefinitely. Ward, however, was not that lucky. It is well known that kevlar is bullet-proof; it is less well-known, though equally true, that it is also cuddle-proof. The stiffness of the fabric under her hand jarred her back to awareness. In the blink of an eye, Skye went from being coiled in his arms to across the room, floor rippling beneath her feet. 

“What. The. Fuck. Ward!” she hissed. 

Ward shoved his disappointment to the side and decided not to answer the unposed question. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at her and slowly rose from his position on the floor. “Do that again, Skye.”

In her defense, she'd just woke up. Skye gave him a look that would've had him buried thrice over if looks could kill. “Do what? Try to sleep? Can't do that apparently!”

He wanted to tell her that she had slept while he did three repetitions of his most lengthy workout regime but such information was hardly productive. “Run.”

The command brought the fear that seemed to control most of Skye's daily life to the surface and she hastily glanced around the still empty room until Ward cut in again. “Run like you mean it. Look, I'll switch sides of the room with you. On the count of three? Three. Two...” He didn't say one just dashed forward at her and watched, amazed, as she nearly flew past him. Well, she didn't fly – not like a bird or a plane but, damn, she _flew_. She ran so fast he could hardly take her movement in. 

“Again,” Ward said. He didn't count but just ran at her. Again, she blazed past him. With her current speeds, she could likely lap even Captain America.

Her unrelenting stare was starting to unnerve him. Finally, Skye broke the silence: “Explain. Now.”

Exasperation bled into Ward's tone. “What do you mean 'Explain'? You can see that can't you? How fast you are?” 

“Of course, I can see that. I've known that for awhile now. THAT is not what I'm asking you about. You need to explain what the fuck you think you were doing next to me. WHILE I SLEPT.”

Ward ran a hand through his hair, tousling it, before turning his gaze back to her. “You were having a nightmare, Skye. I wasn't just going to sit and listen to you cry.” A red blush rose up in her cheeks as if she was embarrassed by the statement though Ward couldn't think to why she would be. He ignored the response and asked, “Before...when I had you restrained you told me that I was faster and stronger than you. I'm not am I?” Skye was still glaring at him so he continued, “I need to know, Skye. I need to know how much you can do when we try to get out of here. I need to know what I can count on you for.”

Her nostrils flared. “You can count on me to get as FAR away from you as I can at my first opportunity,” she snarled.

Ward couldn't help but respond hotly to her disdain. “Right. I got that, Skye. So should I make sure not to turn my back? I really wouldn't want to take in any more bullets. Four is quite enough.”

“I only hit you with two,” Skye muttered.

Ward raised his left eyebrow until it nearly merged into his tousled hairline. “You shot me four times. How is it, exactly, that you know I only took two bullets?”

The intriguing rose color that had crept into her cheeks earlier came back full force but Skye didn't back down from the argument. That was part of the reason Ward was so enraptured with her. She never could back down from him. “I, uh, I checked to see if you had anything that might help me get out of here. A phone. A knife. Before you,” she made a gesture with her hands and must have decided it wasn't explanatory enough. After another verbal pause or two she choked out “...got up the first time.”

“You patted me down while I was unconscious and you want me to feel bad about letting you sleep on my shoulder?” Ward laughed his humorless chortle. “What do you want from me? Yes, I betrayed S.H.I.E.L.D. but they aren't always all that is good and perfect in this world. You should know that by now. In their book, you're almost as bad off as me. Going AWOL isn't really a slap on the wrist matter in the paramilitary trade.”

Skye shuffled. Her glare had lessened some and Ward hoped that, maybe, this time, she'd listen to him. Maybe, this time, they could find some common ground.

“I know you can create earthquakes, right?” She nodded.

“But can't control them?” Again, a sullen nod.

“And you're really fast. Are you stronger too?”

Skye sighed but responded with much less rancor. “I don't know. S.H.I.E.L.D. was testing me. Always testing me but no one wanted to spar. I wasn't someone you could touch.”

Ward looked confused and Skye relished that he didn't know everything about her in advance, that he hadn't read all her files. “For months, after San Juan, they said I'd been tainted by the obelisk. Touching me? Yeah, that was like touching the obelisk itself. Not something most people can survive.”

“I touched you.”

Skye shook her head. “Jemma cleared me of risk about a month ago.”

Ward looked at her. Really looked at her. He saw the pain she held, the betrayal she felt. He understood all that. He also knew what had always helped him deal with it: “Do you want to spar? Test out what you can do?”

“Right now?”

“Why not? What else have we got to do?”

“What if I am stronger than you? What if I break you, Ward?”

Ward smiled. It was a grin calculated to irritate but it held such warmth Skye felt it almost as a caress. “I'd like to see you try, rookie.” He motioned for her to come at him.

And, she did.


	7. Three's a Crowd

Ward was glad that he was a lot harder to break than Skye originally thought. Although, when Skye's next series of jabs caught him on his tender right side, he started to wonder if that was entirely true. With a hiss, he doubled over and then dropped low, dodging another blow. Cursing, he jumped back toward the wall to regroup.

As they'd established before, Skye was unnaturally fast however she was rarely subtle. She still had the rookie tendency to project her next move. His experience meant he could avoid most of her punches so long as he saw them coming. Most of them, unfortunately, was less than he would have liked. He swiped a hand across his face and hastily brushed away the beads of sweat on his forehead; he couldn't risk anything impairing his vision.

”Are you going to admit defeat, Ward? You're looking a little tired,” Skye taunted as they circled each other for what, easily, could have been the hundredth time that day.

Skye had not started out the match with so much bravado and he had not been so wary. It had been quite the opposite. The match had gone all of three minutes before it became clear that Ward needed to take the kid gloves off; Skye took only a moment longer to re-discover her natural swagger.

Fighting Skye had always been an exercise in restraint before. She had been too new and unpolished to take even a fraction of his usual intensity. It was no holds barred now. Her strength, while certainly greater than it had been in the past, wasn't anything that screamed “super hero” and he was still bigger and, for the most part, stronger. All these things rounded nicely together and they found themselves on nearly even footing: her speed to balance his experience and strength. Ward was glad the room's unique build took away her other advantage from which he had no defense.

In this room, however, the leveling of their respective skills made sparring with Skye a lot more fun. Her additional strength and speed also made it a lot more painful when she did manage to land a punch. And pain was the one element that still played out unfairly. Ward didn't actually want to hurt Skye; he wasn't too sure she held the same reservation with him. Even when he was nearly down and out, she still kept at him.  
He blocked her next punch but a swift kick down low connected. Hard. Fortunately, she followed with a sloppy upper cut and Ward rolled back out of range.

She was getting cocky, feeling the nearness of her victory, so Ward waited, carefully, for the tell. Her eyes darted to the side and he saw her intention before she'd started to move her body forward.

”Stop projecting.” Ward commanded, mostly out of habit. Old habits die hard even though he was well aware he was not currently training a rookie agent but sparring with a real combatant. Skye's old habit of leading with the shoulders was bad form though and he was surprised May hadn't been able to break her of it. In this case, Ward was grateful for the reprieve. As her right hand came flying at him, he made sure to grab it before it landed its blow. He twisted her wrist and used the hold to drag her bodily towards him.

Once she was in close range, she lost all advantage. He ducked a quick jab at his jaw, pulled her to his chest, swiped her legs from under her, flipping her neatly on her back. The air rushed out of her and the floor rippled nicely underneath her. Ward wasn't sure if that was from the impact of her body or because her other power was still trying to find a way into the fight. He followed her to the floor to keep her pinned down.

Using his weight to his advantage, Ward pressed into her forcing her arms to her side. This close to her, he could see the staccato beat of her heart as her artery fluttered along her neck. She tried to force herself to her feet but could not overpower him. Instead all of Skye came more firmly in contact with him and the delicious friction encouraged his arousal. Ward groaned, hoping she'd mistakenly think she'd landed her blow. He was in _pain_ just not the sort that came from the impact of a clean hit. He wondered what she'd do if he ran his tongue along that throbbing artery, along the lean column of her neck, right up to her ear. Would she give a breathy moan? Would she say his name? 'Grant' not 'Ward'.

Beneath him, Skye squirmed and Ward knew she must have felt his erection as it pushed into her hip. She bucked again but, if her objective was escape, she'd failed spectacularly. She only managed to shove Ward's legs from where they rested across her own making them fall hard between the tight vee of her thighs. It was as much of an invitation that Ward was likely to get from her. Without warning, he leaned forward and stole a kiss. His lips were unexpectedly soft but his kiss was as fierce as her fighting had been. He gave no respite as he swept his tongue into her mouth. He devoured that breathy moan he'd so wanted to hear just moments before and slid his large hands up her side with a tantalizing slowness.

Skye had changed since last they kissed. She'd become super human or inhuman or something else altogether. But, God, she felt the same. Wild and passionate and so, so good.

Her hands, freed from their confinement, ran up to his shoulders. At first, they roved along his sides, caressing, trailing hot fire in their wake, but as they neared his face, her hands seemed to hover there, unsure of whether to push him away or pull him closer. The pause was long enough for Skye to catch her breath, for Ward to pull back and look at her dark eyes. The pupils were so dilated the earthy brown of them was nearly lost. He saw her awareness of their mutual attraction right before he saw her shut it down. She went from liquid heat coiled around him to stiff, cold, and untouchable as she retracted back into the shell she'd built around herself.

Ward pushed up so that he rested on his forearms. If she was going to hide behind this caricature of herself, he'd return the favor. He was, after all, capable of being Grant Ward – Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and just as untouchable as this creature that Skye had become.

The fantasy of two hot, sweaty bodies entwined on the floor crashed back into the reality of trying to formulate an escape from an unknown prison, unknown captors, and, worse, the unknown element of Skye's abilities. Knowledge was on short supply these days. Ward decided he'd have to make do with what little he had. Even as the mask he wore so often slid into place, he could not quite force himself to leave their embrace. He didn't pull himself off her. Not yet. Instead, he pulled reality back into the room.

His voice was clipped and cold though deeper than it normally would have been had he not been fighting off a raging hard on. ”You're not using your speed to good effect, Skye. You're throwing a ton of punches but you should be running me in circles. Keep me moving. Keep me dizzy. If you get too close, I can do this and, then, you're stuck. Or worse.” He leaned into her and pulled her earlobe into his mouth, biting firmly. It was as titillating as it was mocking but he knew Skye would only care about the latter.

He was rewarded with her formidable scowl. “I got it, Ward.” She thrust her torso upward but only managed to prove his point for  
him when it brought his full weight down on her again. "Fine. Point made. You can get off me now."

”I think I prefer you with this disadvantage. It's giving me time to catch my breath.” Skye bucked him again and Ward decided not to push his luck further.

He began to stand when the floor under him moved. At first, he thought Skye had sent a wave of her wild energy towards him but, when a confused Skye shot to her feet, he glanced down only to discover some new feature of the room that was just now showing itself. The floor had crept up around his feet locking them in place. His boots seemed as if they had sunk several inches into the floor. Experimentally, he pulled on his right leg, then his left, but only succeeded in putting strain on his muscles.

”My apologies,” a voice from behind Ward spoke. “I must have misread our stowaway's intentions. I had no idea he'd abuse you so.”

Both Skye and Ward turned toward the voice. Skye, with feet not currently immobilized by the floor, was much more successful at this. Ward strained to see behind him. From the corner of his eye, he could make out a well-groomed man in a suit standing where there once had been a wall. He caught a quick glance of the world beyond the room. The light wasn't good and he could barely make out a column of large, gray shipping containers stacked in straight lines. A warehouse of sorts? Industrial storage? He guessed that, from the outside, the room they were in looked much like those freight containers. Ward shuddered to think that each container could be another cell like theirs, full of unwilling prisoners and hoped they were nothing more than the innocuous boxes they appeared to be. There was no way to tell. When the wall slid silently down from the ceiling, it put an abrupt end to any ability he had to gain a better understanding of their whereabouts. Again, they were trapped back inside their white box. This time, however, the population of the cell had climbed from two to three.


	8. Candy Crush

Until you become untouchable, it is difficult to fully appreciate how much casual touch exists in day-to-day life. Hands brush each other as items are exchanged, bodies bump together on the street, in the subway. Friends walk arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder. Lovers never stop colliding with one another. People shake hands to close a deal, to greet one another. Skye had not felt any of that soft comfort for ages. She'd stripped away her right to be human, to touch, to be touched. She had been walking the world frozen away from everyone, afraid to get too close. 

And, then, Ward came back into her life and the thaw was swift. 

It had been months since she'd touched another person and within moments of being in the same room as Ward, she had felt her first skin to skin contact. She went from perfect isolation to pat-downs, body restraints, and a full-contact brawl. Sparring with Ward, that had been glorious. Even when he landed a punch or a kick, Skye had felt elated by the warm feel of being human again – touchable. There was no fear; it had been perfection.

The kiss went beyond perfection. In that moment, they had transcended humanity and become super-human. Skye could feel a current run up her spine just remembering the full press of his body between her legs, his erection rubbing into her, his hands stroking, exploring. Her heart almost pounded its way straight out of her chest. He was so hot. Literally as well as figuratively. He set her hands ablaze as they moved over him and danced on up to his shoulders. Who knows how far it would have gone had he not let her catch her breath, her reason.

But, he had. He'd stared down at her with his enigmatic eyes and Skye stopped drowning in the sensation of touch. She remembered why this was all too impossible. With a breath, she recalled how easily those eyes could lie. How he could feign affection, loyalty, and honor. He'd played them all, betrayed them all. And she knew better than to try for something more here. Her path was not one with love or family. She wasn't even sure if she could manage friendships at this point. Every time she got close to these illusive concepts, the tragedy of her life would intervene and her world would come crumbling down again.

 _Hoping for something and losing it hurts more than never hoping for anything._ She'd told Ward that once and it had not changed.

Stopping had been the right thing to do. Ward proved that, for him, this was all some weird power play, some bizarre training exercise. Not using her speed to good effect? Well, he was right on that count. When the wall closed, Skye's shoulders sagged a little. She could almost feel Ward's disappointment in her. He'd just told her to run and she hadn't been able to leave him behind. That had been exactly the sort of scenario where she should have taken her advantage and _run_ with it and she'd failed.

Skye pulled her eyes away from where the quicksand like floor had trapped Ward's feet and forced him to keep his back to the new arrival. He must hate that – the immobility, the vulnerability. 

The new edition to the room was tall, though not quite as tall as Ward. The wrinkles on his brow and the slight graying of his brown hair made him appear to be someone not far beyond 50. His lack of eyes, however, only cemented the fact that they were dealing with an almost complete unknown. _Almost_. They'd both seen him before they'd been drugged and whisked away to this room: the eyeless man.

Skye asked the first question that popped into her mind: “Who are you?” 

The man stepped further into the room so Skye took a step closer to Ward. The eyeless man's attention seemed to remain fixed on her. She might be misreading him though. It was hard to tell with out being able to track his eyes.

“Like you, I have many names.” His voice was smooth, cultured even. Skye found she didn't like it. 

“I only have one name. I'm Skye.” The old Skye might have stuck out her hand, offered to shake with a perky little show of surly bravado. Despite that craving for human contact that Ward had awoken only moments ago, Skye was too wary of this unknown man. Again, she stepped closer to Ward. The line of his body showed he was desperately straining against the floor's hold on him. 

“Ah, well, I haven't had much luck in picking out my own name. My preference is for the one I received from my parents: Videmus. 'Vee' if you must shorten it.”

This name meant nothing to Skye. The man was answering questions but not providing information. 

Skye motioned towards Ward, trying to push the man into acknowledging him, including him in the conversation. She felt uncomfortable with his unwavering attention. “What do you want with us? Why are Agent Ward and I imprisoned here?”

“I want nothing with you, collectively,” Videmus replied as he turned a frown towards Ward. “This 'Agent Ward' managed to stowaway on our plane. I had come to understand he would bring you no harm and we placed him here because we lacked other options. I can see now that I must have been mistaken. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," Skye glanced toward Ward and then back to the man. "No offense but how are you _seeing_ anything?”

“I see with my eyes,” the man said. He gestured to the total absence of them on his face. “Right now, my vision is rather limited. I get an impression of where you are, I can hear you. You'd be surprised with how much your other senses fill in if you ever find yourself with such limitations.”

“And your eyes?” Skye asked.

The man reached inside the pocket of his suit and retrieve a box made of ebony wood. Skye watched in fascination as he opened the box and held it out toward her. Two milky orbs rested amongst what appeared to be thin skin-colored ribbons. When the ribbons shifted, straightened, and reached out like tentacles, Skye practically jumped into Ward, her left shoulder rested against his pectorals. He braced her with his arm but since his feet remained immobile, he wobbled and nearly fell. Quickly, Skye shot out a hand to steady him. As best he could with such an awkward position, Ward kept his eyes firmly on the man's. A shudder coursed through him. Skye was feeling her own revulsion twist around low in her stomach. 

The man seemed to be aware of their disgust. With a business like efficiency, he gathered the reaching skin ribbons back into the box and returned it to his pocket. “Once my eyes were my own but my circumstances have changed. Now, I have to rely on others to use them. Agent Ward used my eyes once and they saw that he did not seek to harm you.” So, Ward had not been lying. Somehow, this man could _attach_ his eyes to others and, what? Read their thoughts? “I had not expected to perceive such violence and anger when I arrived. To hear such a reprehensible threat. We will have him removed from this room...”

“That won't be necessary,” Skye cut in. Skye wasn't sure how long she could remain sane if she was stuck alone in the white room. Ward, at least, provided a distraction. Her body flushed at the memory of just how that distraction played out and Skye was glad that Videmus could not see her. “Agent Ward and I are old...acquaintances. Sometimes our disagreements get, uh, physical. It is nothing that I wasn't able to handle on my own.”

“You're sure?” The permanent blank expression on Videmus's face was proving hard to read but Skye opted to take his question as a simple assurance.

She nodded, remembered he couldn't see and then answered aloud. “Yes. I'm sure.” Skye could feel the tension in Ward lessen slightly. 

The man shifted back from them slightly before he continued: "Well, then, if that is taken care of, let me answer some of your questions. You asked why you are here and I will tell you. I do wish that we could have met under better circumstances."

"Me too. Getting kidnapped really tends to put a damper on my professional relationships." Skye shot Ward a look that was more smug than accusatory. 

"We had very little choice. Your new abilities have had some dramatic effects and we couldn't risk encountering them openly."

“What ever happened to just asking a girl?” Skye groused.

Videmus waved towards his unusual face, with a self-deprecating laugh, "Yes, well, I haven't had much luck getting young ladies to just do as I ask either."

Standing as close to him as she was, Skye could tell Ward was getting sick of this circular conversation. She wasn't surprised when he jumped in with a snarl. "Well, you aren't being very upfront about what you're asking now. What do you want with us? I've yet to hear anything that resembles a proper answer."

What little there was of Videmus's humor vanished and a scowl became the prominent feature on his face.

Skye decided she'd have to be the one to do the talking as the man didn't seem to appreciate Ward in the least. Nudging him with her shoulder, she muttered, "You must've flunked Diplomacy 101 at the Academy." To Videmus, she added, "Excuse him, he's not much for small talk. I'm sure you were just about to explain why we were accosted, drugged, and locked in this room for the past ... I don't even know how long." Her brow arched, her lips thinned.

“Oh, yeah, I definitely missed _that_ in Diplomacy 101. Trust me, I'm taking notes now, Agent Skye.” His snark earned him an elbow to the rib. 

Their aside quieted as Videmus cleared his throat. "It's for you protection. There are some of my peers that would rather not allow your kind the opportunity to co-habitat with the humans." 

"Co-habitat? You mean, like, live?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes. Some would rather take sometime to study you. Such study, you understand, rarely requires a living specimen. Others would just eliminate you. After all, a new, successful evolutionary branch has a tendency to drive its predecessors to extinction. To them, at best, you are an aberration. At worst, you are a threat."

The floor under Skye fluttered and both Ward and Videmus directed their attention to the disturbance. "So I've heard," Skye said dryly. "I still do not understand why I am here."

Videmus scratched at his chin as if the decision on where to start his tale was terribly complicated. "When humanity was still rolling about in the mud without a concept of civilization, this planet was visited by an alien race known as the Kree. The Kree chose to boost some of humanity's natural evolution. You are descended from these greats. Our kind, your ancestors, have always been reluctant to lose our evolutionary advantage by mixing much with humans.” Skye couldn't tell if the derision in his tone was directed at humanity or 'her ancestors' but she tracked Videmus as he moved. He had begun pacing as if he stood before a chalkboard in a lecture hall, an audience of undergraduates hastily transcribing his words. “We had built cities that would put even today's finest to shame before humanity even found a way to crawl out of their caves. Our society, the Attilanian society, has been most fond of keeping its survival separate from our less evolved kin. But, like those that created us, some of us feel it is time to ...diversify... our lineage. The Diviners have been helpful in pinpointing potential converts. Typically, we would have approached you prior to an encounter with the Terrigen crystal but you seem to have found your way through your genesis just fine.” 

Skye's head started to pound. Videmus's monologue was full of so many terms, so many unknown elements. She felt like she had just opened a book to the last chapter and was being asked to understand how everything got to that point.

“Let me get this straight,” she cut in, stopping his lecture and regaining his full attention. “There's some whole race of super humans that needs – what? Like some mail order brides? And you think I fit the bill?”

“It isn't like that at all! We have just been isolated for so long. Some of us believe that finding our lost kin, reuniting our family lines … it might make our future more secure. Humanity's recent encounters with alien races has brought the attention of forces both good and bad. We would like to be prepared should those forces seek out _our_ kind.”

“You say 'we' but this is not all of your kind? Some would rather cut me up or kill me, right?” 

Videmus nodded. “Like humanity, we have many factions. Our unusual evolution has created some unresolved fissures amongst the more political at home. We can be very … disparate. I assure you, I have no intention of hurting you. My colleagues and I seek only to unify our people.”

Skye took a step away from Ward and cocked her head to the side. She held up her thumb, “You stalked me for weeks.” Then, her index finger, “You drugged me.” Her middle finger joined the other two. “And kidnapped me.” Skye dropped her hand before continuing. “But have no intention of hurting me?”

“That is correct.”

Skye narrowed her eyes at him though the menacing look she threw his way would have little effect considering his blindness. 

She continued, “And you don't want me to be unhappy, right? This whole locked in a woobly cell thing is just for my own protection?”

“And ours. We need to have you gain some control over your abilities before we can let you roam freely without this protection. Right now, we are transporting you to someone who can help.”

Skye filed that tidbit away for later. “Fantastic. So, if I'm in here simply to keep the ground from shaking, can I have my stuff?”

“We don't believe that would be a wise idea. Not yet, at least. Your power effects more than just the earth,” he waved around the room. “We've minimized possible complications.”

“Look, if you truly mean no harm, you're going to have to prove it a bit. So far you're not really selling this benevolent, neutral party thing.” The man's face remained blank and Skye wondered if she was only reading it as such because he had no eyes. Eyes tended to tell an awful lot about a person. “A compromise then? I've been stuck on level 245 in Candy Crush forever now and, if I don't check in every day, I don't get my free booster. That sort of thing could ruin my life. Truly. Give me my phone – for just five minutes. You could watch everything I'm doing...well, uh...” So, there was a hitch in this plan, Skye thought, but plowed on anyway. “You could put your eye things on Ward and have him watch me. One game could do a whole lot to turn my opinion of you guys.”

Videmus remained silent for a very long time. So long, Skye thought, he'd slipped away from them somehow. Then he flatly asked, “Is this a serious request, Skye?”

“Deadly,” Skye replied not looking at Ward.

“Agent Ward?”

Ward looked from the man addressing him to Skye. “This is more punishment for my betrayal of S.H.I.E.L.D., isn't it? Shooting me wasn't enough. Now you're going to make me use someone else's eyes to watch you play _Candy Crush_.”

“I could just shoot you again?” Skye offered.

The pause in the conversation was agonizing. Skye hoped that Ward understood that she was trying to do more than play games. She hoped he could con a mind reader just as easily as he had conned S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Fine. One game,” Ward said. 

Videmus nodded. “I will return,” he said. The wall opened behind him and Skye thought again about just running. Ward was still stuck, however, and if Videmus was really going to get her phone, she might be able to find a way to get both of them out of this prison and away from the creepily eugenic politics of her alleged kin.

When the wall closed again and just the two of them remained, Skye walked around Ward so he didn't have to keep twisting sideways to see her. She didn't want to talk about her plot because she didn't know how the eyes saw things, how exactly Videmus could sense intention. If Ward didn't know anything going in, he couldn't give her away.

Still, the silence was unnerving so she chided him. “I can't believe you can make jokes about betraying S.H.I.E.L.D. like that. It isn't funny.”

“Yeah. Well, I can't believe you're really still stuck on level 245 in Candy Crush,” Ward's smirk was devastating.

She punched him in the shoulder but both her and Ward knew, for once, the punch held no malevolence.


	9. Boxes

Ward continued to futilely pull at his confined feet until Skye broke the silence again. “You were Level 7 at S.H.I.E.L.D. That's not exactly in the dark. Ever hear anything about these Terrigen Atlantean whosits?” She worried her lower lip with her teeth. Whatever plot or plan she had with the phone, she was trying not to talk about it right now. Ward decided to oblige her. 

“Atlantean? That's a whole different set altogether. I think he said Attilanian.”

“Yeah. Them. Is this a known group?”

“It might be but I had no knowledge of it. S.H.I.E.L.D. was a massive organization with lots of secrets and, even at Level 7, I was mostly getting updates on a need-to-know basis.”

Her eyes flared wide, her tone low: “What about Hydra? You had to be pretty far up the Nazi ranks. Did they know something?” 

Ward sighed and ran a hand across his face. He _really_ didn't want to start talking about Hydra with Skye. The fact that she was still calling him a Nazi wasn't a good sign for how this conversation was about to roll out. He'd told her he wouldn't lie to her though and now was as good a time as any for him to follow through with that. At least she had nothing to throw at him. Or shoot him with. 

“I was a sleeper agent, Skye. My job was to be the best S.H.I.E.L.D. agent I could be. Gain trust, maintain my rank. Towards the end, my only goal was to learn more about Coulson's resurrection until I was given new orders. Most of my day to day actions had nothing to do with Hydra. I'll admit I shot Nash on orders from Garrett though, at the time, I was more than happy to do so. I had thought he had been responsible for … a lot of other things.”

“What about Eric Koenig?”

Ward let his exasperation bleed into his voice. “Do you really want to hash this out right now?” Skye was the only one he knew who could vex him with such ease.

His irritation and reluctance to talk didn't faze Skye. She didn't even seem to hear him. “Or Agent Hand?”

“Why do you take such an eager interest in Victoria Hand? She was a cold, self-interested bitch that would rather have just wiped the slate clean after the Hub. She wouldn't have thought twice about ordering someone to shoot you then, or, if she were alive...now. She'd hunt you down and put you out herself if she had half the chance.” Koenig had been an unfortunate case. He had very few options of getting out of Providence with Skye and his cover intact but Hand? 

“She may have been unpleasant and way too by-the-book for my tastes but that doesn't mean she deserved to die.”

“No? She wasn't all that by-the-book. Hand had no intention of taking Garrett to the Fridge that day. She offered me the chance to shoot him. On. The. Plane. What would you have done, Skye? Would you have shot the man that protected you? Trained you? Gave you everything?”

Ward could hear the hum of the lights, the pounding of his heart in his ear, and nothing else as silence descended. They stared at each other, not speaking, until the wall behind him started to rise. Skye broke eye contact first and walked forward to greet Videmus. As she passed him, she said in a voice almost too low to hear, “I think we both know the answer to that question.” 

Ward thought he heard just the tiniest bit of regret woven into her words and he wished they had time to delve into what, precisely, that meant for him. For them. But Videmus was back and there was an entirely different sort of dilemma to solve. In the very least, Ward needed to stop thinking about Skye and start trying to figure out how to manipulate a mind reader. 

Twisting so he could see the room's other occupants, Ward gestured to his feet. “You know, if you actually want me to be able to see what is on her phone, I'm going to need to be able to move.”

Videmus did not immediately give Ward his attention. Like last time, he seemed as if he'd rather ignore his existence all together. The man angled his face towards Skye instead. “Would you allow me to see with you?”

“You mean, put your eyes on my face instead of Ward's?” Videmus nodded and Skye continued, barely containing her shudder. “Look, truly, I mean no offense but that's kinda squicky. I think I'd rather just stick to having my own eyes. Thanks.”

“If you'd allow me to see your intentions, your worries, I think we could build this trust you need much more quickly.”

Ward grumbled from his frozen position in the middle of the room, “No means no, Vee.”

Skye shot him a dirty look. “What Agent Ward is trying to say is trust is a two-way street. You want me to trust you? Fine. Show me a little of that trust in return. Of the two of us, I shouldn't be the one making, uh, reparations.”

Videmus was still clearly uncertain of how to proceed in the situation but, finally, he must have decided there was very little harm that Skye could do stuck in a this room in the middle of God knows where. He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out the black box. Briefly, he directed his attention towards Ward and motioned for Skye to stand closer to him. She did without comment or eye contact. 

“You'll excuse my unwillingness to give you full mobility, Agent Ward. You are not someone I aim to build my report with. And, frankly, I don't trust you very much.” He set the box on the ground and opened it. “I'm sure you can see why that might be.”

Ward tried not to react but his skin crawled as he watched the skin like ribbons wind their way from the confines of the box and pull themselves forward. The skin colored tentacles kept the eyes an inch above the ground as they sidled toward him with surprising speed. Like giant spiders, they scrambled up his frame, onto his face and settled just above his own eyes. There was no pain, no feeling of violation – of someone else shuffling around in his brain. He merely blinked and went from having a normal set of eyes to having two sets of eyes. He was aware he had two sets of eyes immediately for the additional ones gave him an added depth to his vision, a clarity that wasn't normal. If anything, the world looked a little brighter as an almost jeweled quality settled in the air. Ward decided that was the worst thing about this invasion. He couldn't tell what Videmus was doing inside his head. Right now, with regards to himself, he was a blind as Videmus normally was and the vulnerability of the position was not one he appreciated.

Being a spy required a great deal of control. Over emotions, over reactions. Losing control meant torture or death. His control was in his ability to suppress, to compartmentalize everything. When Ward pictured the inner workings of his own mind, he pictured rows and rows of steel boxes, locked tight. Each one containing the horrors of his past, his present. Perhaps, his mind was like deep storage in the Fridge where Fury had tucked away all the items he should have destroyed. Control was keeping them all locked up but as soon as those invasive eyes settled into his forehead, Ward gave up his control and opened all his containers. 

Visions flooded his mind. Of his childhood, his parents, Christian and Thomas. A memory of the shoot out at the Poland embassy, his first kill, welled up. Then, the Georgia uprising, the screams, his hands painted in the blood of others. It was his first massacre. The Berserker rage that always thrummed beneath his cool demeanor colored his vision red. His disappointment with Garrett, with himself flickered through his mind. 

Skye broken and bleeding because he hadn't been there to stop it. 

Skye shooting him in San Juan. 

If Videmus wanted to wade through his brain and pick information out, he could but he was going to have to do so in a whirlwind of pain and anger and impossible hatred.

All the while, Skye was playing Candy Crush. She was avoiding his gaze entirely and he didn't bother to wonder at it. He could see the noxious colors of the game that blotted out the screen, a wheel turning, rows of purple and green and orange. Ward glanced toward the eyeless man. Beads of sweat had broken out along his hairline and his face was tense. His apparent distress almost brought a smile to Ward's face. 

When Ward returned his gaze to Skye, she was wrapping up her game. She gave a disgruntled snort as she failed to reach her Candy Crush objective again. 

Holding out her phone toward Videmus, she grudgingly admitted defeat with a mumbled, “I'm done!” Ward blinked and found the rather disconcerting feeling that his own vision was weakening. The jeweled tone the world seemed to take on when he had an additional set of eyes was gone and the eye themselves were scurrying back to their box. Ward had a whole bunch of other things to push back into boxes. He needed to get back his control and, to do so, he let his attention slide away from Skye, from the eyeless man as he concentrated on doing just that.

He was so focused on his task he did not even realize that the floor had smoothed out and freed his boots or that the eyeless man had gone, righting the room to its impenetrable blankness again. He imagined that he missed Skye trying to get his attention several times too because when he finally was able to pull himself out of the chaos in his mind and heard her voice, it sounded worried and she called him _Grant_. 

It wasn't a breathy moan but a “Hey, Grant, snap out of it.” Still, he'd take it.

She was worried. _For him._ “I'm sorry. I'm just a little worn out,” he said running his hand through his hair. He took a few steps until he closed in on where Skye was standing and then he slid down the wall, too tired to care that Skye seemed even more alarmed by his admission.

Skye looked at him. Really looked at him. Her wide, dark eyes taking him in and he wanted to lean into her. To kiss the concern off her face, to tell her it would all be alright. But, he didn't know that. And, really, she was going to have to be the one to tell him it was going to work out and other such platitudes.

“Whatever you were trying to do, did it work?” Ward asked.

Skye slid down the wall too so that she sat next to him. She wasn't touching him but she was close enough he could feel the heat of her skin. She laughed a little. “I didn't beat the level if that's what you mean.”

Ward smiled but waited her to fill him in. He didn't wait long.

“They have very low security on their WiFi network. I was able to pull the IP address of the modem my phone linked into and geolocate where we are. We're in New Jersey.”

Ward nodded. Given the usual time that it takes knock out drugs to work their way out of someone's system, he figured they'd be across the country by now. 

“I also turned on my GPS so if your friend is intent on finding me, I've made it really easy for her.” Skye said 'friend' as if it were the worst word in the world but Ward didn't hold it against her. When she did her tech wizardry stuff, he was always a little in awe of her. That hadn't lessened any today. Still, Skye didn't always think like an agent should. “For her and others.” Ward wasn't pleased with the thought.

“Well, there is that. So, we probably want to make a break from here before everyone decides to show up.”

“I suppose you have that all figured out too?”

“Not entirely. I'm going to need some help on this part.”

Ward just raised an eyebrow.

“When he released the floor,” Skye said waving vaguely at where he was sitting. “Did you see how he did it?”

Ward shook his head. “I was … otherwise occupied.”

Skye scrunched her nose at him but didn't chase the conversation down that dark path. Instead, she explained, “Well, it seemed like he'd used some sort of electrical current to control it. We know where the door to the container is and most storage containers have safety catches, right?” She patted the wall. “Here, or maybe here?” Turning back to him, she continued, “So, if we hit that wall with enough of a current to muck up this – what did you call it?”

“Non-Newtonian fluid.”

“Right. That. Well, if we melt it off the wall, then we should just be able to open the hatch and be out of here.”

“That's a lot of ifs, Skye.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

Ward just shook his head. “I really don't.”


	10. Plan B

Something was wrong with Ward. Well, something was _always_ wrong with Ward. Ward was wrong. But Skye had expected him to move as soon as Videmus triggered the floor's release. Ward could attack with a speed that had always astonished Skye. His ruthless efficiency in combat had made her admire him once. Now, it made her wary. Skye had thought he'd make a grab for the man. Snap his arm. His neck. Or, in the very least, lunge for the door. She'd been waiting for it. It had been her Plan A. Ward would make his move and then they’d run. She waited for him to do it and then the wall closed. She glared at the blank wall, the closed box, and then she turned her glare on Ward.

His boots were free but he stood, frozen in the same space, eyes vacant.

“Ward?” Her voice was pinched, her displeasure showing. He was like a statue: tall, immovable, striking. Her irritation peaked.

And, then, Skye started to wonder. She wondered if Videmus had done something. If the whole mind reading eye creeping thing was a whole lot worse than it sounded. It sounded pretty awful to begin with but what if Videmus was able to damage as well as see? What if he could mess up what was in your mind? 

He could kill you. 

Or make you a vegetable. 

Or brainwash you into obedience.

“Hey Ward?” Skye took a step toward the statuesque figure of her former S.O. The only sound is the room was their breathing, hers getting faster and faster as she contemplated just how many terrible things could happen to someone’s mind. 

She reached out and touched his forearm and, still, he did not move. He didn’t feel dead. He was as warm and solid as always.

“Ward? Hey. Grant. Snap out of it.”

She saw it then in his eyes. All the broken, little pieces that made up the enigma that was Grant Ward snap together as if drawn back by a magnetic force. Her brief insight was gone and all she had left was the blank face, the mask, that Ward always put back on. He shook her hold off his arm and ran his hand through his hair. He looked tired. Even the mask was unable to cover the bone deep weariness that had settled into him.

“Whatever you were trying to do, did it work?” Ward asked.

He'd sat on the ground leaning back into the wall and Skye joined him. If someone had told her a day ago that she'd be scooting closer to Grant Ward by choice, she'd would have thought they were insane. An involuntary snort came out at the thought of that insanity. Her current reality was certifiable and she still couldn't beat Candy Crush. She said as much to Ward, watched his smile, and couldn't decided if that was genuine warmth she saw curl his lips or if this was the reappearance of the same earnest liar that had been such a dependable member of the S.H.I.E.L.D. team until he'd betrayed them all.

If they were playing at being S.H.I.E.L.D. agents again, Skye could play too. “They have very low security on their WiFi network. I was able to pull the IP address of the modem my phone linked into and geolocate where we are. We're in New Jersey.”

Ward nodded but offered no more to the conversation. His silence made Skye nervous and she rambled on “I also turned on my GPS so if your friend is intent on finding me, I've made it really easy for her.” Saying _friend_ and knowing it meant another traitorous Hydra agent made Skye's gut churn, made her want to growl and snap. That the agent looked like May, a former lover of Ward's, didn't make the feelings any less ferocious. She hid it though. She sped into the next bit: Plan B. 

“...So, we probably want to make a break from here before everyone decides to show up.”

“I suppose you have that all figured out too?” God, no. She had Plan A figured out. Plan B...this was going to be entirely by the seat of her pants.

“When he released the floor, did you see how he did it?”

Ward shook his head. “I was … otherwise occupied.” Skye really wanted to pursue that statement. To dig into that half second verbal pause and chase after the real answer. She wanted to ask him more about what it was like playing games with mind readers. She wanted to know if it was just like the way he'd played games with her. Was his mind just like his personas? Full of lies hidden in truths hidden in lies until it was impossible to tell which was which? Instead, she glanced at the lights. The floor could be modified with electrical pulses. It would stiffen or melt away. Electricity was the key. That much had been clear from Videmus's little demonstration earlier. And, if they could get through the weird white protection of the walls, it couldn't be that hard to open a storage container. They had to have safety catches in case someone dumb accidentally shut themselves inside, right? 

Melt the wall. Find the catch. Run, run, run. Plan B wasn't all that far from Plan A. Simple is always better.

“That's a lot of ifs, Skye.” Okay. So, maybe she didn't keep it all that simple but: “Do you have a better plan?”

Ward shook his head. “I really don't.”

So, that was how Skye found herself perched atop Ward's shoulders stripping wiring out of the lights. They had 6 lights and they only needed to make one of the light's electric current run into the wall where they knew the door to be. That left 5 lights to give them reach, to supply them with extra wires to make it to the wall.

Ward had given a good try to dismantle the lights on his own. He was gloriously tall which had allowed him to pry the covers off the lights. He wasn't tall enough though. He could bang at them but couldn't finesse the wires out, couldn't work with them.

“I can lift you up there,” Ward had offered.

“I know you like to pretend you're super-human, Ward, but I don't think even you can just hold me up a couple of feet for an unspecified length of time without wanting to chop off your arms. I need something to stand on."

They both glanced around the room as if a table would magically appear in their time of need but no such thing occurred. When Skye's eyes landed back on Ward, he was striding toward her. When he got close, he knelt in front of her and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. The move was apropos of something else entirely and even after an indeterminate amount of time in near solitary confinement in New Jersey, Ward managed a sort of debonair flair to his movement. If he'd pulled out a small box and popped a question, she wouldn't have been surprised in that moment. She'd have been pissed, sure, but not surprised.

“Climb on,” Ward said pulling Skye back into reality.

She laughed then. Probably because she, too, was exhausted. She was clearly having trouble keeping on task and not letting her mind wander off after fanciful delusions. “A piggy back ride, Ward? Really?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her in that maddeningly patronizing way of his. “Unless you have some way to grow about 4 feet, I think a 'piggy back ride' is going to be our best option.”

He was right and so she'd walked around him and climbed on. Her fingers raked into his hair for grip as he stood and Skye bit down on the urge to throw her arms wide and screech. She loved piggy back rides as a kid because it meant she wasn't at the orphanage. The nuns would never allow such rough housing or personally partake in that kind of silly play. Prospective adoptive parents or siblings were great for it though. There was no better treatment for a lovesick little girl than to whisk her up in your arms, throw her on your back, and walk around. You never had to have hard conversations or eye contact with piggy back rides. It was a perfect way to bide the time until, as always, the orphanage would come back. The paperwork would get messed up or the match turned out to be not quite right. It had been better for Skye that way too. She'd only remember the impression of strong shoulders and the elation of being so high in the air – not the names and faces of those families that didn't think she was good enough to stay on long term.

Skye made quick work of the five other lights. She stripped the wires out of them and set them dark one by one. The room was nearly consumed by shadow when she decided to make sure they were both working with the same play book: “Ward, when I connect these wires into that light, we're going to go dark.”

She could feel his head start to nod between her legs before he decided nodding wasn't a good call at the time. “Yes. I know.”

“I'm going to have a line of live wires ready. Once, it goes dark, I need you to let me get down first. Then if you can get near the wall... I don't know if the electricity is going to melt the wall or stiffen it. In either case, we need to break through and find the way to open it.”

“Got it.”

Skye smiled. Ward taking orders from her was definitely a novel experience. Skye twisted her line of wires together, checked each connection and then, with a quick breath, pinching her fingers around the live wires that ran around the electronic ballast. She felt the quick tremor of a light electric shock and the hot burn as it ran up her fingers. Quickly, she pulled her hand away.

The last light went out.

Ward lowered himself to the ground and she scrambled off his shoulders being careful to hold the coating of the line of wires. Their little white room was a black pit now. She could see nothing but she felt as Ward moved forward, the disturbance in the air as he shifted. She could hear him as he pressed into the wall.

“Ready?” he asked. His voice reaching out from the darkness.

“On three,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “2. 1.” She pressed the wires into the wall and felt the sickening crackle of electricity as it ran up her arm. She didn't move her hand this time though. Not yet. She wanted to make sure that the wall was reacting. She could hear Ward huffing and scrambling about near her feet and then she heard a promising squelch as a clump of the wall liquified and rolled down.

“I got it.” Ward said. A groan followed and the whine and clack of a metal door rolling upward then a slick, wet thud as the rest of the wall pooled up and crumpled to the ground.

The world beyond the room was gray but even the muted tones were harsh after the absolute darkness. They stood in a large warehouse with containers just like theirs stacked three high. She couldn't tell how many there were from where she was but was thankful the only thing visible to her was rows and rows of boxes. The warehouse floor was lifeless. No one was guarding their box, no one was moving the other containers. They hadn't alerted anyone with the abrupt opening of their wall.

Plan B had worked damn well.

“Let's go,” Ward said.

He was standing beyond the box now, reaching a hand toward her. Skye started forward until she reached the edge of their prison and saw the pile of white goo tremble. Like that, she remembered why they'd been there in the first place. This prison had been the first time since San Juan that Skye had felt normal. She had not worried about killing people unintentionally. She had touched, kissed, laughed. For a prison, it had been a little slice of everything Skye could think to ask for. The box was protection against what she'd become and she'd ruined that. Her one track mind had been so locked on escape, she hadn't had an opportunity to think about the what then. Panic, hopelessness, and fear, her constant companions these many months, welled up in her. She looked at Ward, eyes brimming with all her terror and she was surprised to see no judgment or impatience there. He looked at her with an instant recognition that was startling. He stepped back to the box and pressed his hands to both sides of her face, framing it. “You can do this, Skye. You've done it before on your own. And, now, you'll have help.”

“You once told me that you'd trained to be the whole solution. I've always just been a piece of the solution. A player in the game. Often one that someone else is moving. This whole full-scope thing is new to me and a little difficult to get into.” Skye said. She looked at the gray warehouse beyond and knew she was wasting time.

“I told you that when I was deep undercover for Hydra, Skye. Clearly, I wasn't seeing the whole picture either. We've each been a player in a game controlled by someone else. Let's get out of here so we can find a different game.”

Skye took a breath and pulled his hand from her face but didn't release it. His touch settled her. It kept the panic at bay. And, as she'd found before, Ward had some affinity with tiny hedgehogs when it came to controlling her powers. “A different game? I don't know if that's possible. But, uh, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For talking me down from that,” she made a gesture with her free hand and scrunched her face in a manner that clearly painted her disgust. “Panic. It doesn't help.”

This time, Skye left the room first stepping gingerly over the shining glob that had been a wall she pulled Ward along behind her. His eyes remained locked on her, tracking her movement, her emotions. He must have been satisfied with whatever he saw because he curtly nodded to the left. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Let's head that way and find an exit."

Skye nodded. “Before we get out of here, there's one thing I want to check on.”

Ward's quizzical eyebrow asked the unvoiced question but Skye didn't respond to it. Instead, she shot a quick look to make sure the floor was clear and slid out into the rows of boxes.

Ward followed close behind.


	11. Need, Part 1

Ward decided his next prison break should be better situated. Next time he forced his way out of an impossible situation into the cold but welcome arms of freedom, he wanted the setting to be something other than the dull, relentless gray of a dank New Jersey storage facility. Next time, he told himself, his first step could be into a nice forested setting. He'd play it like Robin Hood and leap from the cruel confines of prison into a world bright and warm, the golden sunlight flickering through jade green leaves on a summer day. Or, perhaps, into some sanctuary. There'd be light cast through a stained glass window, fractured into small patches of jewels on a tile floor: a calming end to a stressful journey.

He peeked around the edge of a storage container at another empty, dark alley blocked in by row after row of freight. Skye didn't need to do her tech savvy IP check for him to tell they were in New Jersey. He could smell it: a faint trace of eggs and burning rubber, old factories, and new landfills. It was a distinctive smell, signature even. He looked behind him and nodded before pulling Skye along behind him. So far, they'd encountered no one and the emptiness of the place was starting to raise red flags. Storage facilities, this close to water, were rarely empty. Guards, movers, maintenance people – there was always someone lingering around. This place was silent and eerily unoccupied. It made Ward wonder if all the people were somehow locked up in the storage containers just as they had been.

“There has to be a central office. Security? Something?” Skye mumbled behind him. Ward nodded, acknowledging her comment. It felt like they'd been running through the dreary rows for hours. If he had a watch to check, he was sure that it was, in actuality, only minutes. Long, long minutes. This warehouse was expansive and there wasn't much to distinguish one block of freight from the next. Each container was marked with a series of seemingly random numbers and a stark black logo: a semi circle with seven prongs, or towers, extending upward from its flat edge. It was not a logo he was familiar with but he gave the image a hard look all the same. Attilanians? Some secret society of monsters and super-humans? Was it possible that S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had both been unaware of another major player? Or was he so much of a pawn that he didn't merit that information? The thought burned inside him. He once thought he was well-respected. He'd been groomed from his teen years to be an agent, a trusted double agent. He'd been dedicated. Not so much to the cause as to the man who'd saved him, granted. But he'd been trusted with such vital missions! He'd given everything he was and everything he had to fulfill Garrett's commands and his mentor's inglorious, crazed end was the only tangible result. _That_ thought burned inside him as well though he would still remind himself that giving everything for Garrett was no more than he owed. Without the man, crazed and worthless as he was in the end, Ward would likely still be wasting away in a federal corrections facility. 

Skye tightened her hold on his hand and pulled Ward back to the present. He immediately saw what had caught her attention. A small, cement bunker with one plexiglass window was just down the next aisle of boxes. A security room, a control booth? It didn't matter what it was so long as it had what Skye needed: a laptop. She considered it a fair trade. They had her laptop, after all. If she could get a hold of one theirs, she'd be able to get all the information, more even, that she could possibly need to glean from this Attilanian organization. Skye didn't need creepy crawly detachable mind reading eyes, she just needed ten minutes at your terminal. That was the current plan: get a computer then GTFO. 

From what Ward could see from their limited perspective, there was one...person...currently in the bunker. The person, if it could be called that, was entirely coated in blue feathers. Not like it was a bird but, rather, like it'd gone through some medieval punishment at the local preschool. Tars. Feathers. Blue Paint. Done. Full human form – no wings – but blue as a jay and just as fluffy. As super-humans and monsters go, this fellow was pathetically neither. Unless he had detachable eyeballs too. 

Ward pulled Skye back, behind the storage block they'd crept around. He looked at her. It wasn't his typical scan of her person, checking her well-being. He didn't run his hungry eyes down her body, cataloging, assessing. He looked straight into her warm, brown eyes and squeezed her hand. “Can you manage? For a minute?”

Skye looked as if she'd been caught off guard by the question. Her eyes couldn't hold his own intense stare so they drifted downward, to the floor. She paused for an endless few seconds before nodding.

Ward let go. 

The earth did not tremble. The world did not crumble. So, he kissed her, lightly, on the cheek and then strode out from their hiding space in the narrow alley between boxes. 

Bird man was not a man but a boy. Fifteen, sixteen at the oldest. And seeing an unknown man approach his little security nest did ruffle his feathers. He scrambled back from where he'd been sitting, mouth agape, ready to scream (or squawk) before Ward's fist connected with his temple. He was out like a light. 

Skye joined Ward in the booth and shot him a look that spoke of long conversations riddled with too many accusations of being a Nazi. She bent low and ran through the feathers on the boy's neck, felt for a pulse. Seemingly satisfied, she turned to survey their bounty. She had her pick of three laptops. She took a few moments to click and clack her way into each and chose the one nearest to the door. She snagged its power cord, closed it up, and, finally, looked back at Ward. 

Whatever judgement had been in her when she'd come into the room had gone just as quickly. Ward scanned the room one last time, grabbed a pair of box cutters off the table, and a messenger bag that was thrown haphazardly on an empty chair. He offered one box cutter, handle side first to Skye, and when she took it, he tossed the bag at her too. She shoved her newly acquired laptop into it. Ward was just glad they were now armed. Sort of. Time was against them. “Are you ready now? Can we go?” he asked curtly. He could feel his hackles rise to match Skye's defensiveness. 

She didn't like the challenge and, naturally, opted to make their escape just that much more difficult. 

“Almost,” she said as she strode out of the control room, knife still clasped in her hand. She stalked to the first storage container and bent low. Ward wanted to stop her. It was an unknown variable – whatever was in the box. But he wasn't fast enough. She released the hatch and the chunk, clunk, chunk of the metal door tripping upwards was the only sound echoing through the entire storage facility. 

“Damn it, Skye.” Now time wasn't the only thing against them.

Ward held his breath and released it with a frustrated sigh when he saw the inside of the freight box. At least, the container wasn't full of people. Or monsters. Or white walls of containment. Instead, it had a thin pathway for someone to climb in and access the shelves that filled the rest of its void, shelves that were full to the ceiling with metallic cylinders. Each one had the spiny floral mark that was a bio-hazard label clearly plastered on them and dark block lettering, numbers and letters that made no sense to Ward, marking what was inside perhaps. These were cryogenic containers, the sort of high tech equipment used for shipping medicine that needed extreme temperature control. Ward had seen these before once; he'd seen them at the Guest House.

“You see,” a voice all too familiar to both Skye and Ward curled out of the darkness behind them. “We need you, Skye.”

Skye had not been prepared for that voice and whirled to stare, wide-eyed at the eyeless man. Videmus stood in the darkness of another box-lined pathway. 

“Our people were once great but our isolation has been...damaging. Our strengths are becoming our weakness.” He waved to the blank expanse of his eyeless face. “Our people bare more monsters than assets these days and you can change all of that for us.”

“How? What do you mean?” Skye asked. Ward was crushed to hear the anguish in her voice. It wasn't as if she trusted Videmus before but anything, anyone remotely resembling family meant so much to Skye. 

“Your mother, I mean. Your father knew this. Others, enemies, found her first. Her blood was a restorative. It could protect us from the mists. Protect us from the worst of our mutations. When our people change, the change is rarely good.” Again the man gestured to the box of medicines behind her. “We've tried to stave off the worst of it. Medicines. Surgeries. But we need something more. And your blood... _Her_ blood would grant us all of our gifts without the weaknesses.”

Skye was openly sobbing at this point. Not the harsh, loud sobs that Ward would have expected but with silent, wet, soul-wrenching despair. “You said...you said you didn't want to cut me up.”

Videmus crept closer to her, hand reaching towards her face. How he knew where to reach, Ward didn't know. “Oh, sweet girl, we wouldn't cut you up. We just need your blood. You will unify us all.”

Whatever horror kept Ward frozen to the side, released him but not before Skye took the box cutter that had been hidden away in her grasp and ran the blade in a nasty jagged line across her arm. “My blood? If my blood is all you care about, you can have it!” she screamed.

Warm, red blood splashed out across the floor of the storage area just as Ward jumped toward Skye, just as the sound of gun fire burst forth at the other side of the storage facility. Videmus, likely overwhelmed with the rush of noise – gunfire and sobs – and the coppery smell of blood reached toward the floor where his hands ran through the sticky, fresh pool.

“That's all of my blood, you'll get,” Skye hissed. “I hope you use it well.” She grabbed Ward as he reached out to her and said in a voice devoid of all emotion, “Let's run.”

And, so, they ran. Skye was clearly holding back to allow Ward to keep pace with her super-human speed. Her bloody fist was tightly gripped in his own hand. They ran back through the labyrinth of cold, gray containers away from the burst of gun fire, from whoever had latched onto Skye's flashy GPS call out: Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D., it didn't really matter.

There was a small door in the back wall of the storage facility that released them into a acrid, hot New Jersey afternoon. No green forests or stained glass chapels this time, either, Ward thought. The black tar of the parking lot was squishy but they ran on until a black sedan with tinted windows pulled in front of them and abruptly cut off their dash from the warehouse. Ward braced himself as the window slowly buzzed downward. 

“Looks like you two could use a ride.” Agent 33 – Kara Lynn – smirked up at them from the driver's side. Ward strongly suspected that Skye would have rather not gotten in and might have just continued running had he not still had a firm grip on her hand. He opened the back door for her and once she was safely in, he slid into the passenger seat.

As the sedan sped off down the barren frontage road, Ward watched the sky fill with choppers. All manner of intelligence agencies were going to descend on that warehouse now. Skye was a hot commodity. A registered gifted, lethal, and on the run. 

They needed to find some place to lay low for awhile. 

And they needed to keep her off the seismographs.

Ward looked into the rear-view mirror at Skye's tear streaked face. 

They needed to have a real, honest conversation about everything. Him. Her. The Past. The Future. It all needed to come out on the table. And soon.


	12. Need, Part 2

Kara Lynn was wearing the big, mirrored aviator glasses that May always favored. For all her other endeavors to make it clear she wasn't May, those shades certainly weren't helping someone new to her acquaintance like Skye. Ward knew the difference, however. The shades might be the same but the reason for wearing them was where you could find the personality behind the face clone. May had always preferred to hide her eyes. Windows to the soul they were not but May hadn't trusted herself not to project her next move. An agency woman through and through, she figured covering her eyes would help with that; they were strategic shades, calculated advantage. Kara Lynn wore them because they covered most of her scar. Purely cosmetic, they were the small little vanity she allowed herself. Because they covered her eyes so nicely, Ward couldn't see her shooting him sly little glances but he could tell because she'd quirk her chin his way every few minutes. Another May-Kara Lynn difference, that. Kara Lynn didn't mind projecting her moves. Especially when she was trying to make a point. Ward wished she'd just say it instead of assuming he'd cue into whatever social nicety she felt he was lacking. 

Finally, Ward let his irritation break his silence. “What do you want?”

“Oh, me?” Kara Lynn asked with a feigned innocence no one was buying. She didn't even bother to hold onto the act long before she added acerbically, “Maybe you could introduce me to your friend?”

Ward huffed. “You know who Skye is. We've been trailing her for weeks now, tracking her for longer.”

“I may _know_ who she is but she doesn't know me and an introduction wouldn't go amiss. You could dust off your manners every now and then, you know. You don't always have to be an asshole, Ward.”

Of all the characters and mannerisms Kara Lynn picked up and discarded, this affronted Southern belle was Ward's least favorite. Given the frequency of its use, he suspected it was either her real personality creeping out of some dark fissure the mind wipe hadn't cleared or she knew it annoyed him and kept it in heavy rotation out of spite.

Ward craned his neck around to look at Skye. They'd been driving for nearly an hour and she still had her hand tightly clasped around where she'd sliced open her wrist. (They'd have to take care of that once they got enough distance between them and the mess they'd left behind them.) Her tears had dried leaving only salty tracks and her red, puffy eyes as evidence. The obvious trauma of their escape and the Attilanian's betrayal of her person aside, she looked amused. Ward knew from experience that was the other big difference between Kara Lynn and her S.H.I.E.L.D. doppelganger: the Melinda May both he and Skye knew wasn't one for frivolity. Kara Lynn's take on life was shades lighter even though she'd experienced as much of the specialist work horror show they'd all been through. More even since her only memory of it was working as Whitehall's second.

“Skye, this is Kara Lynn. Kara Lynn, that is Skye.” Ward said gesturing between them. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Skye. I'd offer to shake,” Kara Lynn smiled into the rear-view mirror at Skye. “But I'm sure you can imagine that's not easy to do while driving. Besides,” her smile faded, her tone became more serious, “your hands look otherwise occupied too. I've a first aid kit; I can help patch you up when we stop for the night.”

Skye nodded as if she were going to hold onto her unusual quiet forever then decided she had questions of her own to ask. “Where, exactly, are we headed?” 

“Ramapo in Northern Jersey. There's a fault line that runs south from there, through the Appalachian Mountains. It's not nearly as good as the one you were on out in California. The quakes are less frequent and the magnitude of the ones that do pop up are pretty minor. Still... to keep you off the radar, while we're figuring out our next moves, it'll do. So long as you can keep from any huge blow out?”

The one perk to their bonding time in prison had been the fact Skye's uncontrolled powers were taken out of the equation. Had they not been, Ward could only speculate as to how bad the magnitude of some of those quakes would have been. Especially when they'd first talked. The fact that his touch seemed to calm her was a neat trick but how long would that last?

Skye didn't acknowledge the question. “I appreciate you taking me so far out of your way. I'll strike out on my own from Ramapo.”

Another quirk of Kara Lynn's chin, another sidelong glance. “You're welcome to stay with us. Ward can be such a wet blanket, I'd love to have someone with a sense of humor come along. Just for awhile.”

Ward didn't crane around to see Skye but watched her give her answer with an entirely unconvincing weak smile in the rear-view mirror. “I'd hate to be the third wheel.”

This tip of her chin was so sharp Ward was astonished it didn't cut him. Kara Lynn was going to have words with him once they were out of Skye's hearing. It wasn't as if he didn't see the awkwardness of the situation! He just … what could he possibly say that wouldn't make it more abysmal?

“Oh. No. No. No. No. No. Ward and me? We're not two wheeling here. Partners, sure, but there's nothing on the top or side of that. The only benefits here are the fact that he's a great shot and has a stellar right hook. Don't get me wrong! Those are great benefits to have since all we do is meander across the nation blowing up old mercenary bases and stalking you. But, that's the be-all and end-all of it.” 

Yes, like that.

Skye chortled in the backseat but Ward couldn't tell if this was a good thing or not. He cut in, “Gas station to the right. Let's stop.” 

Kara Lynn did not stop. 

“33,” Ward hissed. 

“We're almost there. Just hush...go back to brooding.” 

Skye did laugh out loud at that and though Ward didn't really appreciate Kara Lynn making jokes at his expense, he'd pay a far heavier price than that to hear her laugh again.

Kara Lynn had been honest. Even with the miserable New Jersey traffic impeding their progress, it only took another half an hour before she pulled into a rundown motel called the Maple Shade. Maple Shade was the sort of motel that may have once been kind of homey back in the 1970s. Since then, it had fallen into disrepair. The grass around the court was parched to a dusty brown and the yellowing billboard at the edge of the parking lot exclaimed its 'VACANCY' in all caps. It also advertised the rooms had “FREE TELEVISION!” and “AIR CONDITIONING!” as if that were some great bonus. The 'free television' and 'air conditioning' obviously ate up all the available 'N's because vacancy was missing one and, to add further insult to the integrity of the word, the Y had come off the runner and was flapping in the breeze.

“Classy,” Ward muttered.

“Inconspicuous.” Skye answered from the back and Kara Lynn smirked. 

“Grab the luggage, Ward. I'll check us in.”

Considering they had not packed for this little family road trip and Kara Lynn must have had to jet across the country at a moment's notice to catch up with them when she did, Ward wasn't expecting three full and heavy duffle bags to be in the trunk of the sedan. He grabbed them and followed the ladies to the their room on the back side of the motel. 

“Lucky number 33!” Kara Lynn said, as she turned the key in the door. Ward followed her and Skye into the room but they didn't go far before they all stopped to take it in.

Like the rest of the motel, the room had seen its designer heyday in the 1970s. The theme was 'southwestern' and the stylist had not deviated from it. An amateurish painting of a steer's skull was framed in gilt between the two queen sized beds. It stared forlornly down at the bedspreads that had splashy blotches of orange and teal and rose across them. The color of the carpet could, maybe, be called mauve, if one was feeling generous, and it clashed horribly with the maroon paint that covered the walls. 

“At least, it doesn't have white walls,” Skye said and Ward couldn't help but agree with her.

He slung the duffle bags on the bed closest to the door and Kara Lynn quickly opened the smallest of them. She dug through it and pulled out a white first aid kit, motioning Skye toward the bathroom. Ward went to follow but Kara Lynn stopped him. “We will let you know if we need help. I don't think all three of us are going to fit into the bathroom.” Skye had already turned on the faucet and Ward knew that Kara Lynn would probably do better job at stitching her up than he could. Kara Lynn turned back to the bathroom but called over her shoulder before she shut the door, “That last bag's yours. Once we get this washed up, why don't you take the first shower. I can work on Skye out there.”

Ward was a little curious as to what Kara Lynn managed to pack in her haste to trek across the country so he immediately went to investigate the contents of “his” duffle bag. Apparently, she thought his needs ran mostly to weapons. She'd packed his Smith & Wesson M&P and a 910 as well as his M4A1 assault rifle. She'd left the latter still in pieces in its kit though. From the looks of his luggage, she hadn't travelled on a commercial airliner. There was also two clean pairs of slacks, some tee shirts, socks and underwear, as well as some toiletries – all these were still in the store's plastic wrapping which furthered Ward's supposition that, to Kara Lynn, “packing” for him mostly meant dumping his weapons in a bag and going on a shopping spree at the first available Target. Ward grabbed a clean set of clothing and rifled through the toiletries. As he did, a box of condoms – _ribbed for her pleasure_ – fell out. He nearly choked. Kara Lynn had far greater hopes that he'd patch things up with Skye than he could ever bring himself to even contemplate. He closed his eyes and he could almost feel her running her hands through his hair, almost hear her moan as he pressed into her. He pushed the condoms back into the bag and headed toward the bathroom with a fresh outfit just as Kara Lynn pulled Skye back into the room. 

He caught Skye's eyes as he passed her. She looked bewildered – a sentiment that he knew Kara Lynn took particular pleasure in causing. He offered her a smile and, when she didn't run screaming in terror from the motel room, figured she'd survive Agent 33 while he took a nice, icy shower.

When he returned to the main room, shivering, but dressed in clean clothes, Skye slid past him with her own set of Kara-Lynn-shopping-spree-outfit-change. 

Kara Lynn sat cross-legged on the bed near the door. A pile of bloody gauze next to her as she repacked her med kit. “I ordered Chinese. Delivery should be here in 5.”

“Right. So, what the hell is going on?”

“Perhaps, you could catch me up, Ward, since it was you that went all off grid.”

Ward sat down on the unoccupied bed, leaning against the faux backboard. “Not by choice. Drugs, monsters, and I don't even know.” He took a moment to brief her on the happenings since they'd last talked. She seemed unperturbed which meant she'd either pried some prior knowledge from Skye or her slick research skills had managed to uncover a whole lot more in the time they'd been apart. “You know what these Attilanian creatures are?” He prodded.

Kara Lynn nodded. “Whitehall mentioned them in the before.” Time, for Kara Lynn was marked by 'in the before' – her known time as a Hydra agent and 'in the now'. Before-before was rarely mentioned. She didn't remember and Ward didn't have any reason to care about some past iteration of his partner. “They're a group that lives in a floating city. Not on Earth, exactly. But they are human. Sort of. Gifted, as a general rule, but their gifts have a tendency to have some rather painful side effects. Related somehow to this Diviner business in San Juan?”

“Yes. I think. Skye's seen as an asset to this group too. Another bunch of hunters will be after her now.”

“Well, we can take care of that as it happens. In the now, you need to actually open your mouth and speak to her. She doesn't know up from down around you.”

“I know! I just...”

“Oh, shut up, Ward. Look. We're in New Jersey which means I'm only an hour away from New Gretna. Dinosaurs, Transformers, and Jesus Christ on a wall.”

Ward ran a hand across his eyes. “I don't even know what that means,” he said without an ounce of snark.

“Roadside attraction, Ward. I'm going. You're staying. Talk to her, yeah? And don't be an ass. New Jersey doesn't need an earthquake to crumble what Sandy didn't sink under mud and water.”

There was a knock at the door. Kara Lynn hopped up to open it and Ward wished he'd sat himself down closer to his guns. He needn't have worried however. It was the delivery guy and Kara Lynn dealt with him quickly. 

She plopped a bag of greasy boxes on the bed near the door after plucking out the bag of egg rolls. She snagged her glasses from the end table, tucking them into her pocket, and walked over to Ward to hand him a credit card. Ward took it.

“In case something comes up, k?” 

The name on the card was 'Craig Parish'. Kara Lynn took great pleasure in coming up with aliases for him that were mere translations of his name via synonym. She'd jump into an online thesaurus and pick the first words that caught her fancy. He forced her to start using synonyms for rock instead of Grant after she'd made him a passport with the name 'Avow Cantor' on it. Relative to that, he supposed that 'Craig Parish' was alright.

“Thanks,” he said gamely. A dripping wet Skye, dressed in a fitted black tee and a cozy looking pair of flannel pajama bottoms plodded barefoot out of the bathroom still wrapping gauze around her arm and his frustration with Kara Lynn vanished, his focus re-situated. 

“Alright, kids,” Kara Lynn chirped waving her bag of egg rolls at them. “I'm off to see Jesus and Optimus Prime. There's lo mein and pork fried rice. Don't kill each other.” 

Skye looked like she was about to protest but Kara Lynn waved a hand at her. “Look, Skye, I think, in the very least, you need to hear him out. A full report is better than a redacted one, right?” She walked over to Ward and patted him patronizingly on the cheek as if he were a particularly affable puppy. “And, Ward, use your words, okay? It makes everything easier.”

With that advice, she flounced out of the room. “I'll be back in a few.” She let the door slam behind her.

“Jesus and Optimus Prime?” Skye asked.

“Roadside attractions. It's kinda a thing for her. Just be glad you missed the World's Largest Ball of Twine and Car Henge.” 

Skye laughed and then, tentatively, walked over to the bed that was full of half empty luggage and Chinese takeout. She sat down on it and peaked into the bag. “Fried Rice?”

Ward nodded unsure if that was an invitation to approach. 

Skye looked up at him, eyebrow arched in challenge. “Well, are you going to come get it? I'm not serving you.”

“Fair enough,” Ward said, moving slowly toward the bed Skye was sitting atop. “You know, you have all the guns on your bed. You could have held me off.”

Skye patted a patch of orangey-teal on the spread next to her and waited for Ward to sit. Once he did, she handed him chopsticks but kept the box of pork fried rice open between them. Ward leaned back against the headboard, chopsticks in hand, but almost jumped off the bed when Skye's left hand landed atop his upper thigh. She didn't move it in a caress but that hardly mattered. The location was high enough to have him at full attention. 

Her cheeks had turned a dusky red and she took a moment to grab a bite with the chopsticks in her hand that was not resting so casually on his thigh.

“I'm sorry,” she said after swallowing her first bite. “I know this is, like, the worst invasion of personal space but if we're trying to not do quakes, this,” God. She moved her hand in a small circle and Ward barely suppressed a groan. “This has been the most effective way to quell...”

“It's fine,” Ward grated out.

They ate their fried rice quietly. When the chopsticks scrapped the empty bottom the the cardboard box, Ward set it on the end table next to the alarm clock/radio that's split-flap display suggested it had survived more years in this world than he had. 

Skye, ever courageous, was the first to jump in to the conversation. “Do you know how many upper level S.H.I.E.L.D. psych evals I've read? When we were searching for the Clairvoyant that was about all Coulson ever wanted me to do.”

“And you read mine?”

“Your's. Coulson's. God, Ward, I read practically everyone's. I know! I know that others have had a similarly bent path. Natasha Romanoff, for one.” Actually, if Skye was being perfectly honest, there was a lot more than shades of gray in the backstories to most of the agents. Some of them ran right into black. Or red. All the big bads liked to find young kids, force them to do heinous things early and often, and then guilt them into continuing based on fear or gratitude or some other sort of awful contrivance. Of course, it was a Hydra strategy but it was also a S.H.I.E.L.D. strategy. Get 'em young, train 'em to be yours. Youth breeds mindless followers.

“I do know that it is hypocritical for me to give others a pass when sometimes I don't give you one.”

“You're jumping rather far into this conversation. Kara Lynn?”

“Talks a lot. Interesting partner, you have.” 

“Don't listen to her. She full of nonsense.”

“No, Ward, she's not.” Skye laughed a little though the humor wasn't really there. “Okay. She is. A little. But...” Her pause was endless and, in it, Ward could not pull air into his lungs.

“The honest truth is that none of those others hurt _me_. The others? Their past was in the past.” The hand on his thigh squeeze tight, though, this time, the action was more painful than arousing. “You lied to us all. About everything. Me? I'm a good judge of character but you fooled me too. So, now, you tell me that the only thing you didn't lie about was your feelings for _me_? How am I suppose to trust that? What if that, too, is some elaborate ruse?”

Ward wondered if this touching thing could go both ways. If he rested a hand on her thigh for support, would she allow him? Couldn't he tear the world asunder if denied her touch? He didn't try for her thigh but, instead, lifted a hand to cup her cheek. She was so small compared to him and his hand stretched well beyond her face. He let his fingers tangle, lightly, in her shower-damp hair.

“The night we were in Providence,” her sharp intake of breath let him know he was on shaky ground. “That night. I had one of the most unvarnished conversations of my life. In that, I didn't lie to you.”

“What? 'The team needs us, Skye.' 'We've got to take this super-encrypted database out to them and crack it, Skye.' 'What's your secret password, Skye?' Kiss. Kiss.” She puckered her lips and offered up empty air kisses but since his hand was still curling into her hair, her lips landed on his forearm. She didn't like her mistake and pulled back from him completely. Her hand left his thigh, his hand was forced from her hair, her face.

“No. None of that.” He reached out to her and hated how she curled away from him. He settled for resting his hand on her calf. A point of contact, a safety locked. “It's never a good time to start something. I know. And starting something between agents? Between a SO and his trainee? Damn it! It's like a sexual harassment suit in the works.” He paused, taking a moment to breathe. “I'm a bad man, Skye. I've done and do and will do terrible things. But, you? You make me want to be a better man.”

“Why'd you go, then? Why'd you even get on that plane? You could have left well enough alone. Let him fly off to the Fridge and been free of it all.” Her liquid eyes pulled him in. “Why'd you choose him over me?”

“Have you followed an order Coulson gave you even though you weren't 100% sure it was a good idea? An order that put you or someone else you cared for at risk?”

“Of course, I have. But that's Coulson.”

“Yeah? So?”

“And he's good. Like intrinsically.”

“Is he? Why?”

“I don't know. He just is. He's helped me so much, you know? He's like...he's like the father I wish I'd had. And, afterwards, it all works out. It always does for Coulson.” That stopped her. It must have taken her a moment to remember that she was Coulson's biggest mistake: an AWOL gifted with a list of casualties roaming free.

Ward nodded his understanding. “Yeah. I know.”

Skye stopped pulling back further on the bed and leaned toward him again. It didn't seem calculated or, even, a conscious move. It was as if she was pulled toward him by a force beyond her ken. He knew the feeling.

Her hand wrapped around his neck and pressed him back on to the bed and, for a moment, they stared at each other. Her deep brown eyes reading his own. And, then, her lips were on his, her tongue was sliding across them, and that hand that had been so menacingly around his jugular drifted down, down, down.

In the brief second that Ward retained his logical thought, he thanked any gods that would listen for Kara Lynn's foresight in bringing them, both, more than one spare outfit. And, then, logical thought was set aside and he gripped the collar of Skye's tee shirt and ripped it off her.

She hadn't bothered to put on a bra and his hands were quick to find her full, lush breasts. Her nipples hardened under his caress. Skye was much more generous with his wardrobe. She let her own hands wander down and spiral up pulling his shirt up and off.

Ward was a lot bigger than Skye. His hand spanned her waist with little effort. When they sparred, he hated the difference in their size. He always felt like he could break her. Now, though, when his objective was to touch her _everywhere_ his large hands were an asset.

He peeled her pajama bottoms off and she rid herself of her underwear and Ward was in heaven. He made quick work of his own clothing before he pressed himself back into her embrace. She was wild and hot and, oh so willing. 

He needed to be inside her. To feel her around him. To hear her scream for more. He grabbed her hips and flipped her so she landed on her back. He dragged his mouth away from hers and slid down her body kissing, licking, devouring.

He heard the duffle bags and all the other bits and bobbles on the bed thud to the floor, but none of that matter because, when his hand slide over her wet curls, she said his name. 

Not Ward.

“Grant. Oh, yes... More...”

It was like absolution and benediction and glory all wrapped into one syllable. Grant was thankful that Kara Lynn was such an optimist and he stood to retrieve the condoms she'd left for him. 

As he stood, he decided he was also thankful the carpet was such a ghastly color. Mauve, for all its other wants, did a great job of hiding all the lo mein they'd spilled across it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really is a roadside attraction in New Gretna, New Jersey that includes dinosaurs, Transformers, and Jesus Christ on a wall. I haven't been but it seems like a great place to cruise by. Especially if you need to give your roommates some alone time.


	13. Night and Day

The cut on her arm itched something terrible. Skye kept her right hand clasped hard over it. At first, it had been to staunch the flow of blood but they'd been driving north on some highway for over an hour. Now, she gripped so hard to keep from itching at it. Who knew what had been on that knife? She'd been careless. Stupid, really, what did slicing her self up show anyone other than just how unstable she'd become? Sure, there's only so many times you can hear how much people want your insides, want to cut you open and pour you out, before you go a little insane. But cutting herself up to make a point? Stupid. 

The people that wanted to be around her--not so they could take vials of blood, or poke and prod and study her--were getting fewer and fewer. Her friends at S.H.I.E.L.D. were out and she didn't blame them. If hanging out with friends meant they had to gear up in a full Hazmat kit, well, that tended to put a damper on a relationship. So, who did she still have? Calvin Zabo? Maybe. He'd warned her of this. He said he'd always be there for her. Ward? Agent 33? 

Agent 33 or “Kara Lynn” had been an unexpected pleasure. When she'd pulled up in front of them at the warehouse, it had taken Skye a moment to realize it wasn't May. Her glasses did a great job of hiding the scar, her most distinguishing feature. And, then, when the revelation sunk in, Skye couldn't help but hate herself just a little bit more. For all her grandstanding and moralizing, here she was running off with the Nazis and the Nazis were the only ones that seemed to have her back. That couldn't be a good sign.

Kara Lynn was razzing Ward about his tendency to brood which just made him pout all the more. Her ability to call him out and her unapologetic manner of doing so made Skye want to warm up to her. Kara Lynn, whatever else she was, would be a good friend. 

She turned her attention back to Ward as they pulled into a shabby roadside motel. Ward, of course, couldn't entirely shake all of his poor, little rich boy attitude. “Classy,” he grumbled.

But, no, his grumbling was missing the point: “Inconspicuous.” Kara Lynn smirked. Skye wished she had it in her to smile back. Kara Lynn had done a good job of finding the perfect location. Part of Skye knew it wasn't exactly Kara Lynn being nice to her. She was an agent of ...something. These were mission objectives: Track down and acquire the target. Bring the target in, safe. Still her diligence in researching and assessing the nearest fault line, her selection of a motel that was so innocuous no one would look twice at it, her wrangling of Ward and his moods. It almost seemed like she cared. 

Skye set the purloined laptop down on a rickety end table as Ward threw three duffle bags on one of the beds. The room was heinous and the bedspreads looked as if a child who'd had too many popsicles had vomited muted tones all over them: the bile color palette! Or, vomit pastiche – a decorating theme to stay away from. Even the steer's skull painting that watched over the beds looked a little ill. 

Kara Lynn dug out her med kit and motioned for Skye to head to the bathroom. She did without comment. She could hear her tell Ward to unpack and was slightly relieved she wasn't going to have to endure Ward's overprotective mothering while she was getting patched up. 

The cold tap water felt wonderful as it washed the itch right out of her cut. The force of it broke the clot and runoff turned pink as she started to bleed again. She heard the door click close and saw Kara Lynn picking through her kit for some antiseptic. The woman hadn't touched her yet and Skye wondered if that was going to be a thing here too. Skye the untouchable; Skye the unclean. Her eyes caught Kara Lynn's in the mirror but she didn't see fear. The other woman looked at her with such heart wrenching sympathy...no, _empathy_ , Skye wanted to break down into ugly sobs all over again but, since she'd managed that feat once today and had a slashed wrist to show for it, she refrained. 

Kara Lynn's warm hand landed on her shoulder and she squeezed. “You know, Skye. You're making this into my thing.”

Skye had no idea what she meant by that but her focus was all on the friendly touch not the inane comment. “Your thing?”

“Yeah. Patching up wounds you've inflicted in shitty motel rooms. I'm getting quite experienced at this.”

Skye didn't know how to respond to that so she refocused on the pink water swirling into the drain.

“I'm just glad you're not as good with knives as you are with guns,” Kara Lynn said, pulling her arm out of the water and patting it dry with a washcloth. Skye wondered, briefly, if the motel had a surcharge for that sort of damage and then figured it didn't much matter; she wasn't paying for it. “This cut? Should be a couple of stitches. I'll have it done in a jiffy.”

“Uh, thanks,” Skye said.

“The cut is nothing. Infection though? That can be a bitch.” Kara Lynn upended a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the open wound and Skye bit her tongue so as not to shout. The whole gash bubbled hot and white under the treatment. “Hydrogen Peroxide. Kills everything. Not super effective as an antiseptic though but it's all I've got on me and better than nothing. I came unprepared.”

She dumped all her supplies back into her kit and pulled Skye out of the bathroom. Ward met them at the door and smiled before heading in to use the shower.

Kara Lynn pulled Skye to the edge of one bed and laid her arm out across her lap. “This is going to take a few stitches. You good with that?” 

“I survived you dumping hydrogen peroxide on an open wound. I'll manage.” 

Kara Lynn laughed and started to thread her needle. “Mind if I'm a little nosy?”

“You're about to sew my skin together. I think you could do worse than be nosy,” Skye replied flatly.

“What's the deal with you and Ward?”

“There is no deal. There is no me and Ward. He sold out my team, slashed and killed his way through a fair chunk of my colleagues.”

“So, that's why you two came running out to the car today hand in hand?” Kara Lynn pinched her arm so the jagged edges of her skin came together.

“No. Gah! Do you even know how to stitch?” 

“It's not my specialty,” Kara Lynn replied and then, after a pause and another unpleasant stitch, she mumbled the less than reassuring, “...I think.”

Skye laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh or a happy laugh but it was still tinged, however oddly, with her amusement. Enough amusement to overcome her suspicion: “If you're going to torture this out of me. Mercy please. I give up.” She sighed and glanced at the door. The door was still closed, the shower still running. “I liked Ward. A lot. When he was with S.H.I.E.L.D. I admired him, you know? He was loyal and honorable and so talented. But, now? I don't even know him.” 

“I may have come to Hydra less willingly than Ward but I was saluting the Cthulhu flag too not that long ago. I understand I am probably not a source you'll take on it but he's still all of those things. The world isn't so black and white as all that. There's no ultimate good, no ultimate evil. There's just a lot of different paths through a dark and twisted forest. Some of those paths cause more pain than joy and sometimes someone on a path needs to be shut down. It seems all our paths have converged on a battlefield. We've all been fighting a _war_ , Skye, whether we knew it or not. I read once that 'one cannot justify war unless each side flaunts its own blind conviction' and sometimes I feel like that may be the only statement I've ever felt ring entirely true.” 

“So, what? Just forgive and forget?” 

“Nah. That would be dumb. Just ...don't fly around blinded by conviction. Take a moment to really dig into the facts.”

“And, what are the facts?”

“You need to ask Ward for those. Look, in my book, anyone crazy enough to couple up with Ward is going to be a fucking nightmare. But, you? You're not half bad. You two just need to hash it out a bit. You've got him all to yourself in this shitty motel in New Jersey.” She made a comically stern face and lowered her tone. “He's not Grant Ward, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. here.” Kara Lynn could have done a fine mimicry routine with Fitz and Simmons but she dropped it before going into how he could shoot a flea from 500 yards or rupture spleens with his pinky. In her soft, mechanical voice, which was slightly undercut by a lilting Southern accent, she added “He doesn't have to play a character here. For S.H.I.E.L.D. or any Hydra cronies. You got the real deal right now; you just need to find a way to make him talk. I'm ordering in, by the way. Chinese okay?”

The change in the conversation's direction was so abrupt it surprised Skye into a direct answer. “Yeah. That's fine.”

“Great! That middle bag there,” Kara Lynn pointed to one of the nearly identical black duffles on the bed. “I grabbed some things at the store. Toiletries, change of clothes. You know. I wasn't a 100% sure on your size but it should do for tonight?” She rifled through the end table and pulled out a battered phone book. 

Skye couldn't help but comment. “A phone book? Really? You have a smart phone.”

Kara Lynn shrugged. “Yeah. Call me old fashioned but sometimes it's nice to use the book. Like putting in the extra effort makes the result a little sweeter. Besides, this feels more real.”

Skye shook her head and shuffled through the bag of recent purchases while Kara Lynn placed an order with a Chinese restaurant down the block. She pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and a tee shirt. The bra Kara Lynn had purchased was a size off so she decided not to bother with it. Rifling through the toiletries, she pulled out a box of condoms. “Really?” 

“Always be prepared!” Kara Lynn chirped, hanging up the phone. 

“You're prepared for the eventuality that I hook up with ...someone... but not with an antiseptic that doesn't make me want to bite my tongue off?”

“Hey! I wasn't aware I'd be working to patch up that kind of damage. Though, with your record, I should have known better.” 

Skye snorted as the door to the bathroom clicked open and a freshly showered Ward crept into the room. She didn't bother pursuing the conversation as she was pretty sure Kara Lynn would just let it dead end. Instead, she took her toiletries, her change of clothes and traded spaces with Ward. 

A nice, warm shower was just what she needed any way. 

When she returned to the main room, she wasn't at all surprised to see Kara Lynn set to dash out the door. The having-Ward-all-to-herself aspect of their earlier conversation was starting to make a little more sense. Kara Lynn's mission wasn't some sort of target acquired, target locked down safely thing. She was way too set on being some sort of twisted, little cupid instead.

But having Ward all to herself was awkward at first. They'd lost the easy report they had once had when they'd worked together on the bus. Skye wondered what sort of sage advice Kara Lynn had doled out to Ward while she was in the shower. She wondered if she'd gotten Ward a box of condoms too and almost smiled at the thought of his response to that. 

While they ate in silence, Skye tried to plan out just what she'd say to Ward. She tried to guess how he'd respond, what lies he could craft, and how she could call him out if he did stray from the truth. She wasn't having much luck with predicting the direction of the conversation though. Instead, she felt like her entire body, all her nerves were creeping into where her hand rested on his warm, hard thigh. 

Once the fried rice was finished, she found her appetite for food was gone. Her mind jumped to how she could satisfy other hungers but then Kara Lynn's voice crept in and chided her. _A full report is better than a redacted one._ Skye knew that was a true statement but she'd read Ward's report, several times. She had the full of it. She told him as much. She waited for his explanations, his justifications, but, instead, he seemed to know that Kara Lynn had prompted the conversation. 

Snidely, Ward chastised her for listening to Kara Lynn: “She full of nonsense.”

Skye felt her hackles rise at that. Sure, she'd only know Kara Lynn for little over 2 hours, officially. But she seemed to be a good sort. “No, Ward, she's not.” The staunch defense didn't feel quite right given her limited acquaintance with the woman. “Okay. She is. A little. But...” And here it was. All her volcanic anger, her murderous intent towards Ward, when put into words, sounded a little pathetic. But, Ward didn't call her out. Instead, he ran his hand up along her face and curled his fingers into her hair. Her hunger for him flared up until he told his bold-faced lie.

“...I didn't lie to you.”

Volcanic anger was back and she blurted and spewed: “What? 'The team needs us, Skye.' 'We've got to take this super-encrypted database out to them and crack it, Skye.' 'What's your secret password, Skye?' Kiss. Kiss.” Her air kisses missed their target and landed, instead, on his forearm. Skye pulled away, crawling back from Ward. She was so mad at him but her anger didn't even begin to check her want and the need for him was starting to consume her. This only made her more furious.

She needed space but he didn't give it. He latched on to her calf, keeping her locked into him. Keeping her mind, her body so keenly in tune with him. And, then, he said something that would be so sweet if it wasn't painted in the blood of his enemies. “You make me want to be a better man.”

“Why'd you go, then? Why'd you even get on that plane? You could have left well enough alone. Let him fly off to the Fridge and been free of it all.” Those were all good questions though she really just wanted to know: “Why'd you choose him over me?”

“Have you followed an order Coulson gave you even though you weren't 100% sure it was a good idea? An order that put you or someone else you cared for at risk?”

“Of course, I have. But that's Coulson.”

“Yeah? So?”

“And he's good. Like intrinsically.”

“Is he? Why?”

“I don't know. He just is. He's helped me so much, you know? He's like...he's like the father I wish I'd had. And, afterwards, it all works out. It always does for Coulson.” 

Skye stopped talking then because, now, it was her turn to spin out with a bold-faced lie. Coulson didn't always get things right. Case and point, her.

And Ward understood. She saw his full acceptance of that. Saw his full acceptance of her. Not as some pet project or test subject or living blood vial. He saw her as she was, monster and all, and still he clutched her leg and held her close. 

She reached out to him, her hand pressed into his neck. She'd shot him only a few months ago and here he was baring himself to her, so trustingly. Maybe Kara Lynn had been right. Maybe Ward still had part of that man she'd grown to respect, to admire. 

He allowed her to push him back onto the cluttered bed and then she gave into her furious desire. She kissed him. Their kisses had always been intense. Whether because they were on the verge of a life and death situation or because they were full of their mutual desperation but this kiss was so much more. It wasn't just a kiss, it was an invitation. And, without waiting for him to RSVP, Skye let her hands drift away from his fluttering pulse. She ran her hands across his broad shoulders and raked her nails against the soft cotton of his shirt. 

The action must have reminded Ward that they were both still fully clothed and he made haste to remedy that issue, ripping her tee shirt off her with a force that stole Skye's breath away. She didn't regain it any time soon because his hands were on her again, pulling her into him, frenetically dancing across her breasts, her torso, and down, down, down. His hands went everywhere rubbing, stroking, and painting a scorching trail of desire across her skin. 

His shirt had come off, her pants and underwear followed, and, finally, when they'd both been freed from the confines of their clothing, he pounced on her, throwing her onto the bed with a look that promised she'd get no quarter from his ravaging hands and lips and, oh, his tongue.

She'd seen Ward before. By deception, during his game of poker with Fitz and, by accident, once or twice, if they stumbled into each other in the locker room on the bus. But she'd never really had a chance to appreciate his full, masculine beauty. Ward could have been sculpted out of marble. There wasn't a soft bit on him especially now with his impressive erection jutting toward her. She opened her thighs wider and when first one finger then two found her slick center and flicked mercilessly at her clitoris, she moaned out loud. “Grant. Oh, yes...More...”

He followed her command and Skye found out quickly that she wasn't the only one to receive a Kara Lynn condom care package.

She supposed, being prepared, really was a pretty good standard to hold. Having spares around was pretty good too. Their first time was fast and hard but Ward proved he could mix things up: the second time was slow, almost sweet and, after the third bout, Skye was so replete, she curled into his chest and fell asleep on top of him without even second guessing any of her decisions. His arms wrapped around her and held her close, his hands wove themselves gently into her hair.

Sometime late in the night, Skye woke. Ward was still tangled around her but she was able to extricate herself all the same. Stepping from the bed, she saw the disaster they'd made of the room and released a self-satisfied smile into the darkness. She plucked Ward's shirt off the ground and slid it on over her head before pitching her torn one in the trash.

Walking to the bathroom, she quietly shut the door behind her before turning on the light. The person that stared back at her in the mirror looked like a stranger. Or, at least, was not the face she was accustom to seeing these past many months. There was a soft glow to her skin, a pinkness to her cheeks. Her lips looked well used (were, in fact) and they curled up just slightly in the corners. 

Skye ran water and splashed her face with it. She knew, however perfect this night had been, they both would have to part ways and soon. Ward was a … mercenary? An agent? He clearly had some sort of occupation partnered as he was with Kara Lynn. Skye knew she wasn't ready for that. She still had no control, no understanding, and way too many questions. She also had a laptop and, with any hope, some answers.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Skye?” Ward called through it. “You, uh, you okay?” 

Her lips curled upward again. The laptop and its answers were far better dealt with during the day time; they could wait a few hours. Kara Lynn was taking her sweet time with Optimus Prime and Jesus. Clearly, she was giving them the night. 

Skye opened the door to encounter a very worried Ward leaning against the door frame. “I'm good,” she said lacing her fingers into his and pulling him back toward the bed. “Kara Lynn brought me a box of condoms too. You up for trying mine out?”

Ward didn't answer, just scooped her into his arms and carried her back towards the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote about justifying war and blind conviction is actually from a lovely children's book called Inside Out & Back Again by Thanhha Lai. It's about a young girl and her family and how they escape from Vietnam in the 70s. It's written in verse and well worth a read.


	14. The End

Skye could feel Ward's fingers brush through her hair and she knew, then, that he'd finally woken up. He was a lot more touchy feely than she'd ever have guessed from their time together at S.H.I.E.L.D. Ward's relationship with May had always seemed very hands off. Granted, at the time they were trying for secrecy, but she'd always figured he'd compartmentalize his relationships like he did everything else. She figured he'd invest himself in a time for touching, for kissing, for sex and, then, when that's done, it'd be time to sleep on separate sides of the bed, thank you very much. She'd been very, very wrong about that. Ward was a _cuddler_. She loved the feeling of his hands weaving into her hair, tangling and untangling it. It was a nice feeling, a relaxing one. She wished they could while away the time all day in bed but she'd promised herself last night that she'd make some headway on her quest for answers and, unfortunately, she wasn't going to be able to do that tangled up in bed with Ward.

Skye pulled herself up carefully and waited for Ward to untangle his hand from her hair. “Do you know when Kara Lynn will be back?” She got up from the bed and found Ward's shirt, sliding into it again. She found her pajama bottoms too and put them on.

“Nope. Though, I have a feeling she's giving us an intentionally long time alone. She's got the car and the phone. She won't leave us here forever.” Ward seemed to get the hint and he pulled on his discarded boxer briefs and sat up. 

“What then? What are your plans? You and Kara Lynn?”

“Before the little side trip to California and, consequentially, New Jersey, we'd been working this job. There's a real nasty Hydra project that's still floating around several of their bases and we'd like to shut them down. Mostly, this has been about dismantling what's left of the Cybertek and Hydra incentives programs.” 

He answered so readily, it astonished Skye a little. “Incentives? Like blackmailing people with their loved ones? Their children?”

Ward nodded. 

“Why'd you stop then? Why'd you come out to California?”

“Kara Lynn got word that you'd gone AWOL from S.H.I.E.L.D.” Ward reached out his hand to her but Skye just arched an eyebrow and waved for him to continue. It was hard to think clearly when they were touching and she needed to get a few answers.

Ward frowned and dropped his proffered hand, gripping onto the hideous bedspread instead. “We'd been keeping tabs on you since San Juan. So, given your condition, it just made sense you'd head to one of the biggest active fault lines in the country. If you were trying to lie low.”

“I suppose it just made sense for you to follow me? That's a little stalky, Ward.” 

She'd meant it to come out sounding glib, a joke. But it sounded accusatory, even to her ears. It had an immediate effect on Ward. When Ward got frustrated, he'd grind his teeth. Skye couldn't hear it but she could see him tense up, see the pressure he put on his jaw. “I guess you're looking for a fight this morning, Skye?”

That was another thing he did when he got mad. He'd get so fucking evasive. “No. I'm not looking for a fight. I'm looking for answers. Can you answer the question? Why'd you follow me?”

“You know why.”

“No. I don't. Spell it out.” She was irritated now too.

“God damn it! How can I make it any more clear!? This is and has always been about you! Skye, even before you had any of these super powers, you shook my whole world down, you completely annihilated everything I thought I stood for. Attachments are weaknesses. Being part of a team? I was a solo act. Go in alone; get the job done. That's my M.O. But, you...you came in and torn that all down.”

“Yeah? Didn't do a good enough job, did I? Why Hydra?”

“I told you this already. Garrett...”

“I got it. Garrett – weird father figure. Terrible choices, blah, blah. Why'd you go back to Hydra then? After he died?”

Ward ran his hand across his neck as if trying to work out a crick. He dropped his eyes for a moment. Was that calculated? A tell that he was lying? Skye wasn't sure but when he looked up at her again, some of the strain seemed to have left his face. It was like they were back in the Vault and he was facing her interrogation. The blankness of the look made her skin crawl. “When Hydra came out of hiding, when S.H.I.E.L.D. came crashing down, it had been an easy choice: Stick with Garrett. S.H.I.E.L.D. could no longer have any clout after that fiasco. The safest play was to stay with Hydra, to use my connections in that organization to keep myself alive. Once I was in Hydra, they kept giving me incentives to stay.”

“Yeah? Like an opportunity to kill your friends?”

Ward stood and she had to crane her neck up to keep eye contact. “No. Like an opportunity to protect them. Hydra was big, a power player and I was on the inside. I could see what was going to happen, direct it sometimes. I couldn't have done any of that as a hunted S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. What happened to Fitz and Simmons was...regrettable.” Skye huffed, her eyes flared but Ward didn't let her cut in. “It was the only option though. I had a direct kill order. They were on a plane full of enemy agents. Dropping them in a secure container why we were in vertical flight over the ocean? Honestly, it was the best chance I could give them.”

Skye eyes still blazed menacingly at Ward but he plowed on. “When I was with Garrett, towards the end, I learned so much about you. Everything you'd been searching for – your lost family, your identity. Hydra had the in. They knew so much and they _wanted_ you; you'd become a target. After Garrett, I went back because it was the only way. to keep you safe. And the only way to answer _your_ questions. Don't you see, Skye? Every decision I made after the battle at the Hub, it wasn't just about me. Or Garrett. It was also about you.” 

“I didn't ask for that.” The raw emotion she had broke her voice. 

“I know that! Damn it! I've always know that...that I have a much stronger attachment to you than you have to me.”

Skye didn't respond to that statement, didn't deny it.

“That's okay, Skye. I get that I'm not likeable.” His laugh, an eerie, tired chortle was smothered by the heavy silence in the room. “Coulson asked me who I was without Garrett. At the time, I couldn't answer.” He rubbed at where May had fractured his larynx. “But, even before Garrett was fully gone I knew that answer. Skye, I'm whatever you want me to be.”

Silent tears were streaming down Skye's face but she gave them no notice. “No. No, you're not. I won't replace Garrett for you, Grant. I won't take that responsibility. You need to find out who you are for yourself. This is so fucking co-dependent, it's sick. Look at us. I'm afraid to walk away from you because you give me such control – over myself, over you. And, you? You don't even know who you are. How can you possibly know what you want?”

They were standing only feet from each other. The rapid fire conversation left both of them breathing hard, sucking in breath as if they'd run a marathon. The room could have been a set for a disaster film – food still strew across the floor, luggage in disarray. They had no real idea when Kara Lynn would be back, no way to contact her. Skye had enough. She raised a hand up to stall any heated words from Ward and kept her voice pitched lower than it had been just a moment before. “Look. I need a moment to process. I'm going to clean that up,” she gestured to the floor, “and I'm going to clean this up,” a hand wave at herself “and then, maybe, we can sit down and finish this conversation with less …” She trailed off. She didn't really have a word for what they needed less of: Intensity? She kind of liked how intense they could be. Passion? Not that either. Anger? She wasn't sure she was entirely ready to give that all up yet. The conversation needed less something though.

Ward gave her a hard look and then nodded. He silently helped her set the room to rights and then Skye scooped up a new outfit and headed toward the bathroom. She sat under the scalding hot water until she ran the tank down and the hot water cut off completely. 

When she returned to the main room, Ward wasn't there. 

Opening the door, she squinted at the bright morning light. The parking lot was fairly deserted. The sedan Kara Lynn had driven them here in wasn't anywhere to be seen so Skye ruled out her reappearance. She turned back to the ugly, little room and closed the door feeling more bereft than she thought she could possibly feel. She, after all, was the one planning on taking off on her own. And, she was the one that had instigated that tear down argument this morning. She just couldn't seem to leave well enough alone.

Instead of dealing with the overwhelming emptiness she felt, she pulled out the laptop she'd left on the end table the night before and booted it up. The motel wasn't the sort of place to offer guests free WiFi but it was also not the sort of place that had real good security on the WiFi they had in the main office; hacking it took no time at all. Skye felt a little better with the world wide web once again at her fingertips. She took some time to map out the fault line, map out a path and direction she could take from here. She clicked around the weird Attilanian files but only seemed to find more questions than answers. 

She was without allies, without an understanding of her own strengths and afraid to test them out, and she had at least two major secret organizations hunting her for reasons Skye was pretty sure she wanted nothing to do with. As hopeless as it all seemed, a glimmer of a plan was starting to unfold in her mind when a soft tap at the door stole her attention. 

Skye got up to answer it but, before she could reach it, the door opened of its own accord. Ward stood in the door way dressed head to toe in his ubiquitous black. He carried a box of donuts in one hand and had two coffees balanced on top. Skye reached out to catch the coffee from its precarious perch. 

Ward followed her into the room and glanced at the laptop. He set down the box of donuts, opened it, and offered it to Skye. 

She plucked one out, chocolate frosted with sprinkles, and he gave her a long look before he said, “Do you want to tell me where you're running off to?”

Skye had already taken a too large bite of her donut so her exclamation of “I'm not running off!” came out a lot less coherent.

Ward's lips quirked up and when Skye had managed to swallow, she elaborated. “I'd thought you had gone.”

Ward shook his head. “I wouldn't leave like that.”

“Yeah. Well, I wasn't sure.”

Skye looked up at him and saw he was trying to come up with something to say as well. They both failed though and the silence remained untouched while they polished off their donuts.

When Skye had no donut left to fixate on, she tried again. “So,” she said tentatively glancing up at Ward through her lashes. “Before California. You and Kara Lynn were taking down Hydra's Incentives?”

Ward nodded tightly.

“Gonna finish that job up?”

His eye contact was impeccable this time. Skye almost felt like she was starting a staring contest with him. “It is kinda a three person job. We could use some help.”

When Skye didn't say anything, Ward followed up with: “...from you. We could use your help. You're strong, fast. You'd be great.”

Skye knew that Ward was likely going to misread her refusal of his offer so she reached out to him and snagged his hand. Their fingers laced together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She squeezed his hand hard. “I can't, Grant.” She could feel him start to pull away from her so she held on to his hand even tighter. “This isn't about you. This is about me. The last operation I was on was a disaster. Literally. I lost control. People got hurt.”

“That won't happen with us!” Ward cut in.

Skye just shook her head. “It could. And I can't.” Skye let go of his hand and walked into him instead. His arms found their way around her and he held her tightly against his chest. The _lub-dub lub-dub_ of his heart was the only thing she cared to hear for awhile. She felt as he curled into her, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I've got a few things I need to work out for myself.”

Ward released her and stepped back. Skye wanted to hold on to this moment, this soft goodbye but it wouldn't be fair. She let him pull away. He didn't yell at her, didn't tell her she couldn't go. He just dug into his pockets and pulled out a credit card. He handed it to her. The name of the card was 'Craig Parish' which confused her a bit. She looked up at him. He answered her unasked question first. “An alias. Thanks to Kara Lynn. You'll need a little money to make your way out. If anyone questions the name just...uh...tell them its your husband's card. Or something.”

It was such a sweet gesture, Skye almost cried. Instead, she used both her hands to pull Ward down and she kissed him. Hard. 

He looked a little dazed when she came up for air. He gave her a sad smile and told her he'd be right back. 

After the door closed behind him, Skye made quick work of packing up. She only had the few things Kara Lynn had gotten her and the laptop. She shoved them all into the smallest bag and then waited for Ward to return.

The sound of a car pulling up right in front of the room had her open the door. She'd hoped that Kara Lynn had magically come back in time for her to say thank you, tell her goodbye too but it was just Ward sitting in a blue Nissan Versa. 

“You'll want to ditch this sometime soon. It's hot. But, for now, this should get you to your next destination without much hassle.” Skye put her duffle on the passenger's side and was about to get in when Ward called her name.

She walked back in the room while he was digging through his bag. He pulled out some cartridges and handed them to her, then he handed her his 910. He was staring down at her with such sad longing. For the first time since his betrayal, Skye had no doubt that his expression, his emotions were entirely genuine. He made sure to latch the safety on the gun as he said with unusual huskiness, “Just remember. Don't ever turn your back on the enemy.”

Skye hugged him and the force of his return hug was almost painful. When he let her go, she planted one last, lingering kiss on his lips. “Good thing you're not my enemy, Grant.” Skye said before she turned and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't murder me. The chapter title is a misnomer. There's ONE final chapter in the works.


	15. The Beginning

[One month later.]

There was no question about it. They weren't going to be able to complete this operation without a third man. There was no scenario that would get them in and out alive that didn't have an additional operative at the doors, holding off security, and keeping them from getting surrounded. It didn't have to be a particular good operative, even. A muscle could do the trick. But, they _needed_ the third man. 

Ward finished off his scotch with a grimace. He hadn't sprung for the good stuff because he had no good news to celebrate today. The rotgut sludge burned all the way down. He didn't wait for it to settle before he pulled on his jacket and left the dingy little bar where he'd opted to take in his liquid dinner. When Kara Lynn got back from her visit to the animatronic Benjamin Franklin or the hollow head statue or whatever nonsense junk attractions she'd latched onto in the area, he'd have to lay out the rest of his surveillance reports on Hydra headquarters. She wouldn't take kindly to the impossibility of their mission. 

Call it a personal grudge but she greatly disliked when people didn't have a real choice in whether they went to work for Hydra or not. She liked it even less that a bunch of children were involved in the Incentives programs. It didn't matter how angry she'd get about it. If Ward had learned nothing else in the last month, he'd learned that having attachments could give you more than just a weakness.

And his attachment to Kara Lynn was not one he'd willingly sacrifice in some underprepared Hail Mary play against Hydra. 

Not for the first time, Ward missed the ease of being part of a larger organization. Even though S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had both been heartless about how expendable they'd make their agents, with a larger organization behind you, pulling together enough man power for a mission had never been hard to do. Strategizing missions was entirely different when there was no backup, no chance for support. 

The sun was just starting to set on St. Louis. Shadows oozed and stretched outward as the street lights were flickering on but Ward ignored it all as he walked briskly towards the hotel. He might have gone straight there to wait for Kara Lynn had he not heard a scuffle and whimper in the long, dark alley just beyond him. The sound gave him pause and his march back to standard cable and a mini-bar came to a halt.

He heard the sound of a can roll across the pavement and another whimper. It was, naturally, the latter that had him turn into the alley. Beyond the usual alleyway sludge – stray papers, a suspicious looking puddle, an empty beer can or two – there was a large rusted dumpster settled just under a broken fire-escape ladder. Urban decay at its finest.

The whimper sounded again and Ward was pretty sure it came from the dumpster. Bracing one foot against the red brick wall, he lunged up and perched lightly on the lip of the bin. In the middle of the pile of oozing bags, a mottled puppy was trying to claw its way to the top. When it saw Ward, it stopped and just stared at him with big, brown eyes. The hopeless little whimper sounded again.

Plucking the dog out from the trash, Ward jumped back down into the alley way and settled it on the ground. “Hey, little guy,” he said patting it lightly on the head. Digging into the pocket on his jacket, Ward managed to excavate the granola bar Kara Lynn had foisted on him that morning. He checked the ingredients to be sure it didn't have any chocolate and then unwrapped it, holding it out to the filthy, little beast at his feet.

The puppy had no sense of self preservation, no suspicions. He took the granola bar and greedily lapped it up as if it had not eaten anything in days. Ward eyed the ribs that stood out along his filthy coat. Given the dog's condition, the estimation on how long it had been since the pup's last meal looked more and more accurate.

A shadow fell over Ward blocking his assessment of the dog. When it didn't drift on, like a cloud or passing pedestrian, Ward slowly let his hand fall down to where he had one of his guns tucked away and turned.

Blocking out the dying light of the day's sun and throwing the whole alley into darkness was none other than Mike Peterson, his arm and cybernetic weapon was trained on where Ward was crouched next to the dumpster. With his face, melted as it was from the explosion on the bridge, Mike Peterson was not likely on many people's list of 'someone I'd like to meet in a dark alley'. Ward had him farther down that list than most, given their rather estranged partnership under Garrett. 

Quickly, he got to his feet and trained his gun on the other man. “Mike. It's a surprise running into you here. What have you been doing with yourself nowadays?” Ward tried to sound casual but, truly, he was nervous. Deathlok was and will always be stronger then him. Trapped as he was in the back of alley with no strategic exits, no backup...the situation was looking grim.

“Yes. Well, a little birdie told me that you were running ops in the area. Mind catching me up?”

Ward did mind but the buzz and click of Peterson's arm/gun trained on him wasn't exactly providing him with other options. “Hydra's still running on incentives and we've located the, uh, storage facility just south of here.”

“We?”

“I'm not sure you've met my partner. Agent 33? She goes by Kara Lynn most days?”

Peterson didn't respond at all to that information and Ward wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“What do you get out of it?” the other man asked.

Now, that was a fine question. After alienating both Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D., Ward and Kara Lynn hadn't had a lot of great paying gigs. Fortunately, neither one of them had much of a moral compass with regards to stealing to get by. Still, why were they so invested in this case? Clichés, mostly: “Justice.”

“That doesn't sound like the sort of incentive program that Grant Ward would go for.”

“Yeah, well, I'm trying on something new.”

“Saving children and puppies?”

“People can change.” 

“I don't know many that change all that much.”

“Well, I haven't changed everything,” Not letting his gun fall from its position, he used his left hand to gesture to his monochromatic outfit. “Black's still my favorite color. And I haven't forgiven you for stopping my heart. You prepared to pay up for that?” Maybe, if Peterson would come at him first, he could get around him and get out of this death trap alleyway.

The man did not react to the threat aside for letting a thin smile slide onto his face. “Nope. You can't kill me. Skye said you needed a third man for your op. I'm here to volunteer.”

This, officially, was the second time that Mike Peterson had stopped his heart. “Skye?”

The man nodded as if he hadn't said anything all that important. “Yeah. Skye.”

“Did she say anything else?” Ward felt like that sounded a little desperate but, fortunately, Peterson didn't seem interested in calling him out on that. Instead, he dug into a pocket on his long, leather trench coat and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, offering it to Ward.

Ward lowered his gun and took it, carefully. 

When he unwrapped it, at first he couldn't read a word. Skye had sloppy handwriting full of unnecessary loops and curls. She'd written this note hastily but, after giving himself time to adjust to the poor lighting in the alley and the scrawl of her letters, Ward could still make out what it said. 

'Let me know how it goes. X O.' And, beneath that, there was 10 digits. A phone number. _Her_ phone number. He flipped the paper around looking for more. On the back, two more words were scratched darkly near an absentminded doodle of a heart: 'Call me.' The note really couldn't get any more middle school if she'd written a 'Do you still like me? Circle one: Yes or No'. But, Ward didn't care; to him, it was perfect. 

For the first time since he'd last been graced with Skye's presence in his life, Grant Ward's face broke out into a full grin.

Mike Peterson made a gagging sound off to the side. “Man, if that's the something new you're trying on, you should stop.” He had a comically appalled look on his face. “That's fucking terrifying.”

Ward ignored him and leaned down to pat the dog that still sat curiously by his feet. The dog wagged his dusty little tail. His liquid brown eyes stared up at Ward expectantly. Since Ward never did anything by halves, he smoothed his hand down the back of the puppy and then pulled him up into his arms. If he was going to embrace change, why not go all the way? 

The dog just waggled happily in response to Ward's affection. “Come on, buddy, let's get out of here,” Ward said walking passed Peterson and heading back out to the street. 

Peterson followed at his heels, grumbling, “You better think up a better name than that. No dog should go around with a name like 'Buddy'.”

Ward laughed. Kara Lynn was going to kill him but he didn't mind much. He figured no creature needed to be thrown out with the trash like that. He'd give this little guy a second chance.

He shot a look back at Peterson. “Have you had dinner? We can grab some take out and I'll catch you up on the op details at the hotel.”

A nod was the only acknowledgement he got so Ward turned and walked off into the sunset with a cybernetic man following just behind him, a puppy squirming under his jacket, and a phone number, on a crumpled paper, tucked safely in his pocket.

Everyone deserves a second chance. Some people luck out and land a third one. If Garrett had been his second chance at life, Grant Ward would make sure that the third time's the charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to AstridV who makes beautiful fanart. She posted a glorious Mike Peterson & Ward piece on AO3 called 'The other night, in a dark alley” http://archiveofourown.org/works/2570078 and, well, you can see this chapter owes inspiration from it. Check it out! If I ever scrape together enough of a plot to write the sequel, her “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.: Renegades” cover would definitely be foundational.
> 
> And, yes, I would like to continue writing Skye/Ward in the sort of weird AU this story set up but I'm very curious to see what the show is going to throw at us in the second half of the season so, unless I have a major revelation, that's not likely to happen now-now.
> 
> I feel like I should offer some further explanation...
> 
> I'd a late start to the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. fandom. I stumbled into the show in late December and marathoned through the first and available second seasons. And, then, I was all “Ahhh! Break is too long! Must seek fanfiction.” 
> 
> Skye/Ward has some great pieces but I wanted something super current, I wanted to see something that would make them work through some of their hate-anger but also not nicely wrap them into a relationship with marriage and babies and indefinite happiness. No shade, I'm terrible writing fluff and I don't think Skye and Ward (post s2e10) are ready for ...anything... yet. 
> 
> My own plot bunny got impatient waiting for others to deal with episode 10 fall out. So, it decided to hop out and meander around thus 'An Honest Conversation'.
> 
> If you've been following as I post, I'm sorry! I didn't exactly have a whole story when I started and it has kinda been going as I go. I had a general idea of where I wanted to end and I really thought I could keep it under 10,000 words but characters were stubborn or plot structure had to be extended here or there. It snowballed. This turned out to be different than I expected and A LOT longer. There's also some issues with consistency and tone but, meh. 
> 
> I had a tendency to post late (my time) and not do a good job cleaning up my work. If you read this as I posted and got irritated at my more egregious errors, I did live edits a day or two after posting each chapter when I'd finally get around to cold reading it. Bad form, I know. But if you re-read, you'll have a slightly cleaner copy. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking it out to the bitter end. (Hopefully not that bitter!)
> 
> And, though it may seem frivolous to click the 'kudos' button or leave a comment, for us slacker writers that don't have enough forethought to map out and write the whole of our fanfiction in advance, those kudos and comments are real motivators. “People are reading this!” They say. “They'd like you to post something decent.” Kudos and comments can kick start that inner monologue which'll crack the whip and screech, “WRITE MORE!” (Okay. Honestly? My inner voice is more like “RiTe mOAR, pleaze” but you get the point).
> 
> So, thanks to all of you who took the time to comment or applaud as I wrote through this. You've broken through my monstrous procrastination tendencies and actually got me to complete a story. (Huzzah!)
> 
> Special thanks to the commenters/reviewers who invested just a little extra to offer support.
> 
> NorthernWolf, BellaPaige88, Lily1986, Eienvine, icewitch73, quakeward, Matarreyes, azrael_abyss, Sreya, colormeblue, Tluvsdotty, AstridV, fairyfromhell, Amelia, Christelle, hungrytiger, Am, RunningWild22, Kbretana, ExcellentlyEllen, Missy8409, maricejayo, Nascent Narrator, Danielle, NikiD3195, MissCMorland, PercabethSkyewardClace13ore 
> 
> ...this is for you. 
> 
> I hope reading it didn't break you and, if it did, MARCH ISN'T THAT FAR OFF! Woohoo!
> 
> Hopefully, Skye/Ward will flourish in a long run scenario that doesn't lead to Whedon killing one or both of them off! Or, if not, may you all write awesome Skye/Ward AU fics to keep us all entertained.
> 
> All the best,
> 
> eedmund


End file.
